we’re all shoelaces in the summertime
hoping for cool
under the bed shade,
a thin layer of closet dust
slathered sunscreen style,
and a new pair of flip-flops,
plastic, to feel the poolside scrapes
while we sprawl each frayed thread
careless, curled, and comfortable
like the sun’s own rays
After the drum beats of severance,
A second where the soft things scream-
Butterfly wings rip from metallic seams,
Crocheted blankets feel the scissor blade,
Breath’s surface blisters into a sigh.
every time eyelashes meet
and bubbles pop
or sneezes
break
the counter-clockwise motion
of the moon
and constant
shuffling
of our feet,
something
past the pattern
of our veins
strains vision
through thin wires,
fires purify
the everyday
through unseen seconds
of light aspiring
with hot, invisible fingers
to sever
and solder
