Ripening

(after 8-bitfiction)

you sink your sensible feet in the dirt
while we talk about the heat
presuming the boundaries of the court
are drawn there like sowed beds,

the summer being safe ground.
a comfortable distance
to dance from, to charm in words.

I thought about you when I felt
my bruise, my tan,
getting up from a sleepless sweat.
wondering if you asked me,
would I have the strength to shatter.

it’s cold in the morning but
in my dream we stand
opposite each other in the desert
waiting to reach out and breathe in.

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