piece me one comet at a time.
you stand on the roof with
your butterfly net & your sunglasses
waiting for one to pass.
there is a flower in the dark ocean
of your throat. when did we become
so prone to design? you lay down
to take a break & i plug in
all my dream water for your shoulders.
i make you a heart & then a sail boat.
the only glow in the world.
sifting for humid fireflies
to give the secret away to.
we threaded our fingers together
& promised to be blue jays
in our next lives. i blueprinted
a new steadier tool song
& we hummed, never yeilding fully
to the potential vibration.
the diagram was incomplete
& without an escape route.
everything road on this precise
kind of figure but then there was
the radiant errors in our eyes.
going wrong. going so beautifully wrong.
how could we resist the pattern
from the grass to the artirficial?
i needed you which is to say
your power source was stronger
than mine. light bulbs burst
behind your mask. me, a century younger,
i only had a little stove. fed the flame
dollops of coal. the future was
your gameboy. we took turns guessing
the next morning's instrument.
you'd let me write my name
in pink, using all of the color.
not enough for anyone else.
me, the world's only pink word.
who taught you to be so gentle?
to share your device in the dark?
with the machine, i drafted your arteries
for science or for love. i hung them
behind the curtain where only i go.
kneeled to them like
an idol. you have no idea
what the prototype means to me.
you go on, mesh net hunting
the next passage. i hear
your foot steps. the sketch
will be all for me.