Float Into Fire
Were packed for the long weekend, Ive got my
hands full with satchels and bags and my eye
on how your hips bop to God’s finger snaps
as you walk through the house last-checking all
lights are off, all windows closed. You look like
a clover blossom, I feel like Im a
drunken bumble bee with a camera.
You take one last look back as we close the
door, as if to make sure the images
you store are fully charged against ghostlike
dissipation. You turn to me, we float
down the stairs, down the hill, and climb into
the car, you and I and fall sunset fire.
by Dan Waber, (echo by Jennifer Hill-Kaucher)
I would describe this as:
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