who we were in september

when i say "before times" i mean
when i still loved you in a way
that burned down train stations. 
i mean in the 3am friday night 
& aimless summer kind of way.
catching pigeons & pretending they were
our children. i named them
after moons. callisto & adrastea.
i mean as if there were a great fish net
cast over us to reap us from
our wild coral. the kinds of pink
i knew with you. the ardent fuchsia 
of every single sunday. i told you
we were going to wrestle a goose
to the ground. load all our urges
on her back & fly to the nearest mountain.
your car rattled awake. you kept
a pack of cigarettes you promised
not to smoke. watching halves 
of movies & finishing them inside 
a pillow case. i swear i have never lit
so many matches just to snuff them out
on the wall. my room had no window.
if the building is still there,
my room still has no window. 
once in the end times
you came in with a kitchen knife.
you hacked at the wall & said,
"i just want to give you your piece
of the sky." i begged you to stop.
this is how the world comes apart.
in little chambers of a horse heart. 
i was always terrified of you
though the reasons changed.