“You and I Are Walking”
We have walked, my legs tracing yours,
to a cornfield and back.
Tectonics stir beneath my skin and I’m shaking
when you pull hairs out from your scalp—
I tell you, “I’m glad we couldn’t decide,”
and you whisper to the Photuris, “Me too.”
I believe that place was a sacred one
where time did not elapse, clouds did not pass,
and the stars held the sky together
like nails in a roof.
In a different time and space,
we held hands through the woods.
Our cellphones alight like beacons—
we watch stars leap from the heavens as bugs glimmer in the mist.