remember when we
unzipped the sand with sticks
that we dragged behind us
like summer secrets
and you set sail the seashells
and promises shipwrecked on the shores,
and we filled a bottle with
laughter that we rolled up and
sealed with sunshine-melted ocean wax?
And I say
And I believe it was beaten smooth
until our voices disintegrated into
the salt that frosts the waves.
let's take our spoons and
sample the crystallized moon;
we'll dig the craters deeper
and hollow out a place to sit
where we can watch the naked fireflies
that streak across the dark at the
speed of light
and we'll rename the constellations
and watch the earthrise at dawn.
And I say
And every piece we swallow glows in our bellies
while instead of reds and oranges
our eyes drink blues and greens.
you see how the stormy clouds are origami
because when they turn over
they make new shapes,
and lightning really strikes upside-down
while its thunder pools in your shoes and
echoes in your steps
as you climb the paper stairs
in glass slippers that get thicker at the toes
as time melts toward the next revolution.
And I say
And then the storm is recycled
so the pieces can dissolve into the ocean
and fold into waves pressed onto the shore.
A/N: It may interest you to know that glass is what is called an amorphous solid, meaning that it's technically in a suspensory state between liquid and solid; over time it "melts" downwards due to gravity, which is why the windows in old European buildings (like churches) have thicker glass at the bottom than at the top.
Annoyingly, FictionPress won't retain my formatting on this poem, so I guess you'll just have to imagine line indents at the places you think they belong. PLEASE R&R! And be proud I finally wrote something that doesn't rhyme. I've become a rhyme addict lately, so this is like switching to decaf poetry for me.
Thanks to Chandra-Moon and Aurora for the crit suggestions!