when the sun turned purple
our secrets fell out of our lips
by 7, our bedsheets became forts
my fears came like rain, dissolving into your fingertips

at 8, the bluejays sang outside your kitchen window
“are they mocking miles davis?”
speak like velvet
“if you listen hard enough.”
feelings of linen

by 10, we are alone
you speak of heaven
while i watch heaven speaking to me

it was a sunday when you asked me to live outside the city
“the only thing that would exist would be me, you, and time.”
those words convinced me
“do you think time becomes slower out there?”
“out there, time can stand still. you just need to stop for a second, and look.”

when 12 arrives, the trees become louder
autumn winds crackle
window panes shutter
“do you think wind would be scarier if we could see it?”
“it would only make it easier to hide from.” i say
“i hope the bluejays are okay.”

at 2, we see the moon
spilt upon a September sky, waning
your father died when it was full
“remember that poster that used to hang in your school wall?
Shoot for the moon. Even if you miss, you'll land among the stars.
i hope he landed on a star.”

the clouds flood above our heads at 3,
we are between bedsheets
the moon curtained by cloves of gray
“we should have let the bluejays in.”

when it turned 4, we conspire shadows of animals on our wall
rabbits dogs and wolves danced amongst framed stills
“what if we’re just shadows of God’s hands?” i ask
“if i’m a shadow, then you’re the light.”

we count thunderclaps until we forget what time it is
until it stops
they become echoes
clouds break apart
we stay close

you walk out to the porch
“poor thing”
“it’s like a piece of the sky fell out.”
its wings lay at attention
“do you think we could have saved it?”
“we can’t destroy ourselves for the things we could have saved.”
“we could have let him in.”
“yeah, we could have.”

at 6, the sky turned orange
the clouds pallet mixtures of purple and violet
i like to think there was no space for blue in the sky for the bluejay
i search for any trace of cerulean or aqua
the only blue i could find was lifeless on the ground

“what do you think happened?”
“maybe it was trying to shoot for the moon.”

you ask if there was a way we could bury it in the sky
it’s unfair to bury something so brightly blue in the dirt
we spend the rest of the sunset searching above us for blue
we watched orange dissolve into the violent violet night sky
we stay outside looking at the stars

perhaps the rest of the bluejays managed to make it to the moon
some may have landed on the stars
i want to believe that this still-blue on the ground is just a shadow
i have never felt more shaded
we were all shadows
shadows of something much bigger.