promises of renewal and rebirth.

promises made to each other in the dark.

your sweet nothings

turned every thing sweet that fall.

Loose sand & dull glitter

dust the stairs of the Rio metro.

Through no fault of your own,

I have found it harder to say “I love you” recently.

Many find themselves temporarily reflected.

Early morning dew can exacerbate this situation.

As the sun slips behind the mountains later each day,

as the flowers expose themselves once again,

as the canopies of trees come alive with birdsong,

I think of you.

The grass he bled upon in the summer

is still rooted below

within the soil

across the street

There’s a tusk-white dress

hanging by a thread,

tied up to the rafters,

waiting only for you.

would you reach into my fervent fire?

we sang the same words as our

mothers

aunts

& grandmothers

standing on the corner of Burnside & 23rd,

the tears trapped on my eyelashes

form rainbowed halos

in the presence of unfamiliar sunlight.

Dancing in your garden

beneath a sea of glass

Every color a memory

every move a reminder

The sun has returned, and the saccharine blood in my beloved body once again flows like the warmed wine of winters forgotten.

a formless figure

a bloody specter

wine glass filled with rain

“this calls for something special”

a record was unearthed 

from its cardboard sleeve

placed upon a porcelain platter

“Who’s pulling who, am I right?”

The moon felt so big

The stars had to make room

They fell across the softly woven sky

Right in front of our tired eyes

Choking within the summer’s smoke,

we dance in a pink blotted sky.

Feet never touching scorched Earth,

making home in the place the fire once burned.

Seated on solid pine,

sounds of a city

stream through a screen,

unfiltered.

Face down in the suntanned sand,

my long wet hair clung to my tired shoulders.

The salt of the Pacific mingled with the salt of my exhaustion;

crystalline contrast to my summer-born freckles.