driving over these
blue lines is like bridges
without arched triangles—

your arched and aching triangles.

carrying the white-flecked wisps
of you hurt like tomorrow. sometimes they
whispered, when the sun quieted:
“you’re like frost—
you melt into the dark”.

sweetly swimming
in the colder tides of
emptiness—
tidier than the backseat and
your umbrellas; tidier
than the rolling crests of
suburbia;
tidied by the frayed smoothness
of sea.

she was temporal;
she poured like a loon and
splashed on
warmer and blanketed white;

the folds crackled;
she disaffected—

that colour,
acquitted in your
smile,

that time,
quieted in your
softness,

that coldness, tacit
in your
hands).

Whirl up, sea—
Whirl your pointed pines.
Splash your great pines
On our rocks.
Hurl your green over us—
Cover us with your pools of fir.

frightened, like colder
clouding sunlight,

like windows
of shadow and blue,

colder
shadowing sunlight,

like widows
of frightened blue

i pasted your love to the window:

blue, clouding sunlight.