I remember the color yellow, somewhere else around your face,
Blasted wet with press-on shapes black and red on moonshine plates,
Turning blue-eyed and blind and laughing-hued, soft white teeth breaking through,
With rocks half-sharp jutting up like new bones in our backs, pearls of lime kicking inwards over leaves of glass,
On bike tires streaking, heavy set upon the hill,
On beat-down flip-flops, lucite-veined on the hedgehog’s brow,
On black, on white, on agonized strife, on dexadrine highs and gay largactyl streaks,
On daysick dreams held much too long, on mattress sweat and heaven rope,
In words left empty,
In fruits unpeeled,
In placemats pressed with the clearest dirt,
In socks left crumpled underneath the floor,
Like a ray of light peaking over my doorhenge, yellow blest me awl for life -
yellow blessed and tender breast, twenty years forever gone -
turn back another day.
Amen.