Bare shoulder submerged underwater,
goosebumped from evaporated chlorine.
We sank to the bottom of the concrete block –
bricks warmed by low-hanging air as
trains swooped through – a steaming kettle in July,
slow and smiling over with lazy courage.
Trees lap back and forth and
hang in the wind as we rest in green and the
bridges that swallowed over us, highways of
muddy skin that serpentine through dried-up banks,
led us nowhere but here.
Our hair absorbed what it could,
darkened armour rejecting molecules that could not cling, and
wine-stained lips remind me of winter,
yet we toasted away to sweat-greased nights.
Your eyes swoon over me. A hero’s blue-gazed
arrow to a Pisces heart,
and we dedicated that day to our baptism of summer
underneath the slow, smiling air of Tulsa heat.