sparklers

II.
it was a week ago when i told myself
i was going to write about sparklers. they've
sat on the windowsill, still in their blue & white TNT package. 
i wrote the narrative of me going out in the parking lot,
blue lighter in hand, unlit stick in the other,
my shadow stretching giant across the lawn. magic is partially 
a matter of will. i, of course, meant them for us. 
for me holding a flame steady while you extend your arm, 
waiting for the impending aluminum-magnesium ballet-- 
the metal in your bones catching too. 
oh rebellious light. iron-induced. 
watch, i'll bite them in my teeth. white titanium mouth.
all celestial in us is brief.
I.
early grey dusk asks for scars, i'm tracing circle after circle.
here is where light was so loud it remembered us.
the red-iron pocket knife to my soft fruit-bowl belly. 
we came apart, my brother & i. box by box of sparklers beneath the deck.
my uncle had a lighter for a thumb. the last few seconds 
were always desperate. what to do with the temporary 
nature of the sun? god cupping his hand around the 
head of a candle & pursing his lips to exhale. i meant
to write this part first, i cut myself swallow-able. this time:
great hunks of watermelon & cantaloupe. this is messy.
mosquito bites behind the knees. light the last one.
i'll wait. we have boxes & boxes.