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
