Im not sure I will ever find the right words to do this moment justice.
I put a moment out of reach,
too young to explain the details
embroidered on its
white cotton sleeve.
Those damn camcorder tapes,
noisily focusing on
early modern medicine.
I trusted it to the mother
she carried it behind closed eyes,
curved reflections pushing
shapes from inside balloons.
and the light that enters opened eyes
scatters into saucers,
settling like fish returning
to the deepest parts of the pool.
We lay there quietly with the battle tent
raging above us.
I gripped translucent fingernails
so small, so imperfectly real.
Inhaled your sweet and perfect pale
that deepened scent of skin revealed.
My breath spread incantations
that promised you our touch.
The kiss I forged on your forehead
would only let in dreams, tell stories
of the worlds we’d weave and all
the songs they’ll come to sing.