the garden party
all in white
croquet stripes
kissing twilight
grass is never
this green
nor the shadows
of the trees
so spindly
you and i duck
into the boxwoods
the sky feels
bloodred
don’t you know
blushing means yes
leaves trembling
from my breath
the garden party
vanishing into
thin air
the bats hanging
in the violet pines
your hand in mine
please don’t pick
the twigs
from my hair
these are my souvenirs
please leave
the leaves
clinging to me
for tomorrow when
the sunlight taunts
me that none of this is true
these will be my only clues
that once i was
with you