now, i'm going to show you
how i take the sun down from the sky
without getting burned.

this has to happen once 
every few weeks 
for cleaning. 
you might ask, why us?
but it is not our job
to question the universe's needs.
first, you will require
the tallest tree you can find.
a ladder will not do, only a tree
knows how to bend. i have
a favorite tree in the woods
& i climb the branches
like a vine. 
birds rush away,
knowing the impending heat.
once up above the world
i dream of feathers, 
a whole jar of feathers
all floating down to the dirt.
who am i? 
i am just a warm fragment,
a sliver of sun 
coils in me.
two oven mitts & a pair
of tongs. i clamp the sun's edge
& tug until it descends easy
as bowl of lettuce tumbling
from a shelf. don't worry.
it is hard to break the sun.
what it really needs 
is for you to tell it a story.
hold the sun tight
& invent something about love--
tell the fire that you
are so deeply in love that 
you have not slept for three nights.
it does not have to be
even close to the truth.
in fact, it is better
you not confess to the sun
because then whenever you feel heat
you'll remember the sun
knows all your secrets.
the sun wants to be awed.
up there, he is lonely.
he wants to feel known. you can
ask him questions too
like "who was your first love?"
& "where will you hover tonight?"
he will not answer but
his fire will flare. 
you might be wondering
"what about us?" who will 
take us down from our beds
& know us? 
we are not celestial
bodies. we are just 
boys who pass a secret from 
father to son & father to son.
what happens if we stop?
we don't know. no one 
has ever stopped. 
you must never stop. 
crawl up to the sun, now.
tell me have haven't been curious 
about the orange whirl
& the voice of heat?
go to the sun. let your shadow
be tugged from your body
long & wild
& come back to me. 
to tell me the story
you told into the glow.


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