once

dinner at the window, the dandelion sun used to heat your hair molten
someone’s eyes were always squinting at the bright stirring of water
stray cats balancing the fence made small hands print the panes sweaty and curious
and you were catching your belt loop on drawer pulls and laughing
glee was a tide pool in defiance of the moon

at night when the sky pretended to not be there and we pretended to not be tired
static electricity made fireflies under the sheets and we danced
we danced with lampshades on our stupid heads and forgot the differences that made us mortal
too early to know itself, our soul tripped on eager feet; half agony half hope
half yours half mine

the sun used to turn your hair molten

who drives; who mows the field so unbearably slowly
hacking at the stalks of remembrance bruised and breaking
broken