five moments.

the first when we were children
barely melded by the universe
a first scar
formed on the knee
later will be held against time

i say to you my final goodbye,
our future uncertain,
you kiss my lips
at eight years old
this is the first moment
we connected

i’ll take you as my bride,
i laugh,
because i can feel it
and this terrifies me.

the second, still children
taken by others
a sea rests between us
an ocean,
you correct me

we don’t hold hands, this time,
don’t ride one bike together
but we sit on Our Bench,
five inches of space between us
knees aching to hit
one another

the third,
and we’re together
i write for ages
about two puzzle pieces
who happen to fit
together

but the ocean is still between us,
the fear is still within me,
so i leave.

four.
i take a year to leave.
you disappear for two.

five,
and you return
this time
i’m not afraid

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the last ten days of august.

what could empty you?

          in the weight
of our divines
the un    thinking
deep within us
strokes of pure spirit
      our fleeting fall

labour — the early war;
                 original sin
in between the earth and sky
            is the shade
            of the galaxy
why limit sorrow?
why blank the source?
             conquered,
             we go on
and put life first

ignore the    remnant artifacts
                      merciless undoings
turned pools,
                      nudge    of time
ordinary notes of care
unleashed poisons
etched
into skin

history’s suitor to time,
         shards,
                      debris
remember   remember
           remember
the blank silence echoing

days go on,
        fewer,
               sleep escaping
crying out
                   it was a home.

cursed nights into mornings,
         who can make of this?
what once was theirs,
          whatever is left?

emptied, murdered, obliterated
             an annihilation
of the ego
              the anguish,
                     the anguish

eyes still seeing last touch
feeling
ancient alone abandoned
what is a year
              a month
               a decade
but a moment?

—lost and burned
            futile devices,
fervour’s writing

mailed to the void

and the sea?
        the sea?

the saltwater dead, my love,
the saltwater dead

the last great epitaph
of our love:
           i am nobody
           i am nobody
           and you
           are gone

oh, August, a season deceased,
tell me again
the hieroglyph
of your name

nostalgia

do i still hear your voice?
back of my head
sings songs of your words
sickly sweet
like honeydew drops
in a glass of milk

an old movie
playing on repeat
the bike wheel turns round
and round

life in a snow globe
shaken to my core
touching the ends
of my existence
seeking to reach
spring

i find myself asleep
in a green meadow field
under a starless sky