We were Christmas velvet Christ-like figures
Licking wounds with liquored tongues, and
You spent your night in a chicken coup.

Snow sky in December, and things were unseasonably warm.
There was a fire on the porch and my teeth drew blood from
Joanna's forehead. In the field then, we screamed so loud.

There was something more than magic in the air those days.
The back room at the State Theater,
Citrus blistered fingertips and plywood smells.

And you chose me.

After I asked you to
call me reckless in the
crushed red stadium seats.