the scent of a day dissolved
sweat rolled off, sun slipped
from the crown of the head to the shoulders
where it rests, like a cape, when you touch me
and us sunk and laughing
in the glowing amber light
bronzed vanilla from the bottle
talking about scrapes and the colour jade
you and I and broadway hip-hop
and your mother calls about her meds
that you didn't steal, though you steal time
as the peach dribbles soft into dusk
the softness of a day distant
behind the amber glass where i keep
all my pretty mortal thoughts
where you belong, incendiary,
cracking fizzy out of reach
behind amber on an evening
that puts other springs to shame.
i think it was may- it might have been april.
