like the dream of being everything but what we are,
i am whispering everything i have ever loved about you
into the pauses between thoughts, and between each
day that sinks like a rock into the circling shadows
from midsummer suns. the sidewalks are ablaze anyways
and screaming our secrets.
though there is a hopelessness in it: what is the difference
between one sheath of grass and another? is it the
light that twists it or the legs that brush it? is it that
one fiber is consumed, decomposed, and reformed
into yet another fiber?
last night you reminded me the stars flee,
but their light shines the same, so
like the dream of being anything but what i am now,
i am whispering to the grass to catch you.
i am whispering to the sun to forget you.
i am whispering to time to leave you be.