It Was No Longer Summer
When the birdsong came out of your mouth,
when the fig tree grew from my stomach.
The sunflowers bowed in the dusk,
the shadows of footsteps around us in the dark.
We forgot our names, but remembered
the sweetness of a small apple, from
roasted squash, the stickiness of fruit.
The earth cracked open
and crackled, the trees went up
in smoke. Still we persevered
intertwined. We believed
the stories of immortality, we wrapped
ourselves in the scarves of leaves and stone,
we let the sound of water lead us underground.
We forgot to plant a gravestone,
we let the earth swallow us whole.
about the author