i keep this day sealed away in a glass jar,
like the kind you catch fireflies in as
a kid in midsummer
the heat is just the same,
the light a bit dimmer
there were clouds on my legs and
i crushed raspberries in my hands,
felt the earth’s pulse,
was dizzied by the undulating grass
bad things wouldn’t exist if
we didn’t put them into existence
anything bad was made up,
make-believe,
that’s what we told ourselves,
with our toes in hot sticky mud
it was primal,
green, effortless,
like playtime when you’re young
we squeezed berries
(are they poisonous?)
between our fingers,
bare-backs as canvases and the
juices as paint
the fruit is sweeter when
it’s picked with ***** fingers
the sun balanced itself low
in the sky, and i wondered
who would catch it when
it fell