Golden threads sink behind eyes
A marionette, diving from damp leaves
which crack my flats on the pavement.

Now rose-freckled, I’m reminded
of spackled nails on
shoulderblades

My cheeks tight, sun-roasted
heady from new sangria.
Your hair stings my face, swift as forgetting.

Soft-eyed and hard-hearted
I examine you examine her
crackling with charisma

Sinking in silence,
like mushed matcha coating an overpriced glass
her translucent hem spinning and spinning.