I’m a baby again,

cradled by these flutters—

I’m drowning in her arms,

I’m a baby again

a womb of cold summer nights

a womb of crescent moon 

hidden in firework fog/

It is July 6th,

but it could be any day and any time 

but it is here and it is you

and it is me with you

and we are here

cradled by these flutters,

I rest my head and mark your heart tick,

a clock,

a tock,

a cauldron 

your breath, 

a saintly cistern

to drink of 

whenever 

my body

pines/

a lull folds herself

at 3 a.m. —

I fly/fall into his arms/it’s beautiful to trust/you’ll stay whole/no confetti/no festivities/intact/flawless/untouched/unharmed/unblemished/perfect