the oak tree rolls
(a medallion, a junction)
darker than the soil
—
     than the gray skies.

your dress is black (the
smell of summer grass)

and everything holds
everything
    else.

The beginning begs to be noticed
Uttering simple syllable phrases
But you know those touches flow
Into the silent parts of me like you
And our ownernership is so new
The over folding of a pair of wings.

Love Mary  x

sail the fields

like her silhouette would
whisper: “someday

the bluebells will
crush beneath your
fingers”

like her sunlight would
wander: someday

the soil
will cover her

footsteps.

bluejays scream: "the

world rounds about
your faces"

your lips—a flightless
moon.