childhood precarity
was the name of my
brother’s band. I don’t
have a brother. I don’t
play guitar. all I
know is that the sea is less
salty in september and
gulls come toward the shore
when they near death. all the
blues and greys couldn’t
keep them away. if I had a brother
he would have warned me to
stay far from boys without charm.
i didn’t think you’d return. our
fragility as thin as
gossamer wings,
as thin as poppy petals. their
bright orange shades
all signs of flimsiness. kelp
entangles our feet. waves
crash and crash and crash. clarity
feels higher than airplanes
in the summertime. we
haven’t yet learned to drive––
on the way to heaven
in a shopping cart.
