garden fence frames us, history of correspondence informs our discourse; the poppy in the petal in the pod in the garden in the ground bursts; I look for you in the darkness, look for love

petals poise upon expansion, ready to write themselves in airlike instant paper story told; we tell our story about friends who died, the litany of fear and regret; you tell me it hurts and I know you’re telling the truth

each petal patiently bound within the bud, the development of character, the expression of pink; you and I miserable, content, alive, smashed in the backyard, lamenting those who no longer feel as we do, right now, secure in our understanding of each other and the transience of the moon

there is a storm that waits to be told; a lover, her beau, their families adamant refusal; the thorn in the garden, the last tangle unstaked, all so predictable, uneven, unbalanced, it’s always like that; you and I eulogize, surrounded by the quick, the moment of the fight, the moment of the duel when you face death and surrender, or create another moment; now, we face the desert, never to know if when we win, we succeed

the petal the page that lives and dies by time and absorption, born to die in the instant of colour and comprehension; we confess to each other our sins, our designs, our lies, give expiation

the garden is littered with fallen pink tissues, pages torn from the book neither of us wants to read aloud; each blossom a day, each flower a year, each seed an eternity, the pink this instant; we tell golden moments now, fool each other, moments that are memories, turn them into mythologies, compete to tell a funnier story; we shout and our laughter overcomes our tragedies

we tell the stories we have already shared, again, even though they are old stories, by now, each one, an old friend; we tell them again, anyway

I reach out to you, say it’s frightening; you reply, it’s more than that, but we’re still alive, rejoice; rejoice

coil, await the sun in this caul of instance, mask of forever; drink and sing through the night, forgive, praise, build the story