I spent a long time fallingtoward your slender, tremulous face—a long time slipping through starsas they shattered, through sticky cloudswith no confetti in them.

I only dream of your ankles brushed by dark violets,of honeybees above youmurmuring into a crown. Antique queen,the night dreams on:

No one remembers.But I remember, under the elm's cool awning,watching you watch the clouds.

From above, you looked small as an afterthought, something lightly brushed in.