late luminescence

i hang up a few seconds
after my voice breaks
and you do not notice.

i would never leave you,
and you would never leave me

but sometimes that's not how separation works.

// sometimes, it's the discovery of earth
light catching on the morning dew of a wildflower --

// sometimes, it's the seasons and land,
and all the things we swore it wouldn't be --

// sometimes, it's the imperceptible release of breath after exchanged
missed calls, untapped voice messages, late texts --

i guess
what i cannot say,
in so many words,
is that we are sampling different forbidden fruit:

pomegranate seeds, red fingertips, greek mythology,
rich springs & flowery deaths // maternal love be damned --

(and i can taste it.)

so,

when you finally turn back to see it,
don't chew on the pith.

this space,

(

i

will

still

love

you

.

)

on our mirror:
— i’ll be out until midnight

(because i trust you enough to care)

on our microwave:
— dinner is the fridge
(because food is the way i was taught to brush the hair out of your eyes)

on our door:
— have the best day
(because)

on your car window:
— i love you
(in case you forgot)



(& i rush off giddy, because the whole point is that i won’t be here when you find what ive left)

is the cold of my cheeks
the wind giving violent life to hair
swirling sand at our feet, in my shoes
the chaste presses of sun dabbed at the waves, our eyes, our backs
running to waters edge
there is no room for subtlety —
we scream so that we might be heard
before the sky takes our voices
to be so serious about being silly 
there must be something about the salt
and the colors of set
birds casually silhouetted the sky
too cold, too windy, too everyday
WE ARE FROM CALIFORNIA
i know it doesn’t make sense
but does it have to?

if you cut us down the middle,

you will never be an echo again

an 'i love you' will never be reciprocated

in such blunt and plain syllables

except by accident ---

gone just before you can grasp it ---

touch it and it will disintegrate,

the words gone.

if i lived in a house with no mirrors

where everything is new,

where nothing is ever repetition

it will never be the same again.

it will never be a home. 

it will never die.

--- will it ever be truly alive?

continuity is broken, illusion

invisible ants hanging on to blue dot

the impatient rise and fall of different (prison) cells, 

    different glassy prisms, 

made of Adam. babies born guilty.

i was delivered where the Eve bleeds into the rosy-fingered dawn 

    --- in the dark

            reborn and shattered again, where it stood

wholly alone, only caged in the freedom 

i thought i had asked for

but even regret will not stay

it is bitterly cold ---

it is blithely hot ---

the i am.