Let sunset go passing

beyond the shower’s mist, the bathroom window

overlooks grass silvered by heat, trees

susceptible to light where we lose

gladly our familiar faces, run through with

serrated leaves, with the sharp edge

of blooming, verging on ripe. Grown from small,

from slow gesture – memory pushes

towards shape, feeling into corners, along lines

gradually broken, hard to follow, insistent and

sometimes his scent, sometimes his voice. Meadow

sweats whiskey, or says my name – invited to

dark water, to falling smack into, bruised if

I were plastic, tossed to break, no one

jumps after, but eyes gather the away we make

for one another, escape from holding the ground

to stillness, the rain so far

gone, he burned everything given, just

evening, ear pressed against heart.