roof up, so we can taste the stars
like brilliant popcorn launched into a blacker heaven.
wide green with overgrown grass damp from
july's drizzle, we stop.
you take my hand into the ankle-high barley that
tickles between bare toes. we sway like
the midnight breeze, among pollinating grains
as firstborns of a new eden.
you hum melancholy in folksong,
and reminisce a childhood we released
too swift in regrettable zest.
(we grew up together, then f e l l in sticky love)
i kiss the coffee aftertaste of your lips,
to imprint bittersweet upon the pages of you
and archive them sacred.