We'd sink in-between the blades of grass
feeling the green like the approaching cool air,
We'd lay flat on the concrete
lay in their mother's flower garden—
with all of the faith
and burning days tickling our bare arms
and we'd wait for it.
I'd hold my breath
clutch together my eyelashes
feel exactly where I was in the world
and lay my palms still on the soil
thinking here we are
this is where we are
twenty-five minutes more and
We'll be back to being careful
with our tragic feet around the flowers.