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Drafts, Poetry

Dreams During a Heat Wave

I still dream of that time you brought me
to that place where our dropped baby teeth
and adult ankles meet. By the pond

with miniature waterfalls pouting
against the granite under our feet.

You said, “We’ll always be this moment”
and you meant it, and I mean it too.
But I never told you how my smallest toes
twitched and sprang to life, as if they
could bring me from where I stand
to where I would eventually be. It is uncanny
how our bodies are augurs. Perhaps the blood
in our veins is what we used to call “fate”.

Now I cannot go back there. That cool stillwater
running between my toes would be too much
movement. For once I cannot bring myself
to place my feet on the floor.

Instead I’ll remember the dreams
of this past month:

Ripping callouses from my fingers.
Blinking because the sun is too bright.
Sneezes that become butterflies.

And that pond. Always the cool water so still
you can swear your face
is both ancient and always dying.

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