there’s a trill in this heat

this is the heat, right here held in the round of my smoothed shoe

this foot has toenails and this foot velvets the clay with a scuffle

a sound like a piece of paper being blown off of a stack by the wind

let’s call it a slip-cover

let the wind fumble a while with this intimacy, this team of bodies assembled

training for the ikibana that summer will bring

i’m walking the spine of the roof

spooling love-whispers around my spine through my mouth

spooning dust into clay pots for later in the evening

chewing ashes into silences delivered

i keep the things i’ve learned in my pocket

corner of the yard a chimenea embroidered with bouganvilla

pink slip-covers

something dropped, stepped out of, puddling the floor

kissing ankles hello, or good-bye

i should know which…

a soft pink dress. light-weight. silk.

ankles.

shadow puppets behind a scrim

preparing morsels for a pewter tray