#dearyou

I want to write you
about the stars in Canada               to say
stars are just              shards of light
to say              there is a field                        a slope
of dandelions             all the counselors are kissing
in the weeds but I am young and open                 legged and letting
everyone tie friendship bracelets around my ankle bones
unaware                     of twine and its flammability
 
We eat with cutlery  
miss the word silver             My skirt pockets are full
of sliced apples and coffee crisp                 Then I remember:
it was pouring when we drove here                      the moon was white
toothed                      I am trying to recall what blooms
on the wheel stamped road of                    distance                      lilies
mums snapdragons little trampled roses             Is it possible
to be homesick always wanting                 something                 more?
 
If I write this adventure right, youth
is a cabin above Toronto                to rewrite a letter may be a dangerous
act                   I want to pull you                 home
to Manitou Lake                   my olive rock overlook above the cinnamon fire pit little cove of out own world between us two                        this is why we send words
across the lines                     mailmen are poets dancing in haste
 
I want to write you to say
the dandelions dyed
my tongue moon-shade                  The squirrel
 
under my bunk bed keeps etching
itself into                    the creases of floor boards             like nails
into segments of a clementine                   11 acts of fragile
separation                 I used to think this kind of slicing was contained to fruit
baskets                       salt slugs woodpeckers all the wasps the              holes
they dig in skin                      bark                slow movement of learning more of some
one you don’t                        skin                 rinds of flesh
 
Is it possible to puncture from afar?
I signed up for archery         didn’t go
I choose the bottom bunk but                   moved                        now admit
admiration for                      space              the floor                     the shadow
leak of the bed frame top bunk                  
 
I want to write you to say
silhouette romantics                        firefly solstice                        flowerscape               to say paper
wings in glass shoe boxes               the way that summer made me older      
made me want things                      differently
 
Canoe paddles slice water               to wholeness                         Our cabin door is open
Bagels are charred with burnt marshmallow residue
There are many stories but not enough space                by the fire
I want to come home                      come back
next summer
 
I want to write you to say
one night                   we stripped down
to the white pollen               of humanness                       skinny dipped in a milk lake
feed our flesh                        stars                ceramic light
 
It is raining
At lunch today                       we had a food fight              I scrapped my knee
but it was ketchup
 
It’s hard to tell what’s real               just light