QQ.
…and you feel a distance
once this sun reaches our land
like your childhood
…
there are matches
burn these leaves
and unfolded notes
…
I can’t come back here
like a dandelion
pulled from its roots
…
and we kneel
closer
like your body
when I wish
it was my body
…
at midnight
we are carried away
by your breath
…
after—
noon
…
ignored
Posted 12/28/12
This is a piece from a much larger manuscript.