Marshmallow fingers and the moon.

oh you people are sticky-stuck in the fire-pit 
like twigs-- crinkle bag of baked potato-chip leaves 
and the dead-strangled grass still reminding
us that we have to mow the lawn and that August 
never ends herself quietly--
she's the type to stick her head
into an oven-- the type who screams 
like those fire works that make bells
of our ears-- Challah bread- baked braided girl
who didn't believe in the flyleaf
pages at the end of our book-- she 
wrote poems in the margins of September--
melted frost with her hot cheeks and sweaty hands--
look for that dead angel hair that has always started 
fires, smoked, and marshmallows-- 
are you a charcoal child who set sugar on fire and 
melted in the crater--? 
do you believe
in love like marshmallows or were you
worrying if the night sky was cooking in 
our little fire-- send a bottle rocket to
knock out the moon--
the stars blink like popcorn kernels-- it looks like burning 
we don't always noticed the boiled moon
waiting for us to kiss and mold ourselves
together with marshmallow fingers--
there's no such thing as love without
burnt sugar-- don't trust people
who are too patient with sugar-- those
caramelized creatures who skewer girls 
with sticks-- rub their melted wrists clean
with the still-green leavings who
never turned in time-- they're 
just waiting for the moon to be done cooking--
the great bowl of bagel-- we dug
the sun into our back yard and filled
it's mouth with calendars-- did you
burn August or did she burn herself?
i don't share marshmallows for my own
protection-- sharing can leave you as
brown as sugar ashes in the fire pit--
a cinnamon-soot angel-- did you put out
the fire with water? did you remember to put out
the moon? did it steam in the ocean
and melt on your fingers? did you 
share with me the charred marshmallows
and smore-squish me under the full
weight of popcorn super novas--
and did i kiss you like marshmallow 
fingers?
--you can pull them through this dead grass hair-- burned
in the oven-- 
our thumbs blending the black coal-smudged moon
back into the night.