When gazing balls, gold and metal

Green, lean in to hear tomorrow’s

Breath, we’ll talk of no such day.

We’ll sigh only pieces of a night;

Trees and skies were one marquee

Unrolling stars, like stucco, down

To blinking strays that flew

From branches to consider the back

Of your hand for rest and silent

Chemical glow.

Their orange heads were clearer

Than my next moment,

Cicada wings unfolding

Years filled with every

Nothing;

Knotted days holding

Together air that tasted

Like rain on metal

High-tension towers

That reached out,

Seemed to listen

But only hummed

Like smiles of strangers,

Eyes that betrayed

The little suicides

To come before metal rods

Would break through sod

And concrete, daunting

Mowers and mixers

So we can spend the rest

Of our days in tall grass, gazing

Into gold and metal green blooms

At our faces stretched together

And back to the marquee

Unbroken and our eyes

Unrolling stars, like

Stucco, down.