quell we opened yolkless in the glow of each rise. light coming thick & lumbering. we tired giving the sun new names. "sweet brother" & "furnance" & "fig tree." hoped that might keep her going just another year. imagined what one more skirt hem could bring us. photographs to be singed & turned to comet scarves. watched our edges seep into every furrow & forgetfulness. i remembered i was supposed to be worried about the house's bones & i was supposed to check for the thousandth time if the dead trees caught fire. touching their torsoes. little eyes peered from every crease. in bed our shadows turned indigo then sapphire. gem-like in the last days. i thought only of spoons & mixing. how my mother used to work her hands in a belly of dough. everything begins like this. everything end like this. with omens catching each other's ankles. the mailbox grew a devil's tail. your family stopped visiting. were turned into crows who now forage in the trash cans behind our apartment. it feels like we could have had much more. but then again we could have had less. scooping a sugary bit of light. feeding you a spoonful, i say, "let's take bets on how many more mornings are left."