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Alight Before the Sirens
Forgive me. I cocooned in him. A brief place to alight before the sirens.
My wings curled and spotless.
Beside him, I could not feel their longing to turquoise.
The sun inside my throat unaware of its longitude.
I made soup and baked bread. Threw the loose body
upon the hottest stone. Hardened to the task.
When the moon sought his eyelashes, I cupped my
right hand to shelter his dreaming.
Forgive me. I cannot stop imagining
the height of weeds in the garden. The lack
of winter meals. So much gathered, then flung away.
If asked, I would have stayed his Sisyphus.
Always the mountains, darling, and someone unable.
Burden me, till I'm remembered butterfly.
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