The sun’s a smile
A brindle dog rabbit spurs
The sleep of fields
A swollen exhalation
I stole the green flecks from your eyes
Kept them fluttering and moth warm
Between my close cupped hands
A scratch, a breath
Crooned the ocean sound
Of half-remembered summer
I am still here
You have far to go
We are monsters
Holding hands
In our easy way
The sky almost burning
All epitaphs by glowered sun erased
Too dark, too bright for funerals
