still

i exhume no worry when i see

sun spears glinting around your head,

poised to strike us down. on bear lake

the wind got so heavy our boat drifted

off with two anchors down.

i would dash your name

in the dust-film of old countertop,

clutter the air with specks of scribble.

the cottage sleeps all day long, while

we him in its belly.

 

against

the driftwood spine of boardwalk,

you sit,

legs flowing

off the edge, twin

waterfalls paused at toetip

before they collapse into shimmer.

 

how can you

still

hold my lungs taut in fear.

how can you

still hold me with your voice,

when to close your lips

is to let go.