memory #7: i thought i was going to love you

small laughs like a melon’s delicious
and those found precious dishes
he shook his tailbones wildless
string peas and lion’s mess

i held your hand deep onion brown
eyes so sweet but cucumber frown
deep our love in the willow glen
dug it there, with a blooded wren

hair straight so ribbon fine
hair so cotton a garlic line
toenail to toenail
fingernail to nose

skyways breaching, and solar flare
an empty night, a solo dare
green grass infinity and waves
white flowers yet squirrel graves

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