☀ Today's Poem: Excerpt from "pink(ing)" Caelan Ernest

We head back to his after it got too late to be drinking at the.
(Sorry, it's a—) Mess. There's a splash of water on the floor of his bedroom, maybe a rain spot or a spill. A pink dot pokes out from the middle, the size and shape of an egg yolk.
I glance at the ceiling, but no sign of leakage. He remains quiet as he takes me to the bed. As we walk past the strange water and the pink spot, the glitchy sound from the bar returns in my ear, like switching on the radio to a broken station. As a kid, I'd always let the static play to fill up the empty space.
But now. On the edge of his. I press my fingertips to my ears to try to stille the sound, but I know there's no luck since the glitch seems to be coming from inside. Vibrating out.
As if to keep me present in this moment, he performs an action: the slippage of his body over mine. His hands to uncover, I undress. The song in my ear becomes an orchestra booming. A subsequent terraforming. I trace the salt particles on his skin like stars before sleep.
Inside, another kind of pink yolk is brewing.
Love is dew, you.