Iain

I would be running wild with my hair tied back
Cotton shorts with little legs sticking out
White like moonlight on water
Dirty feet wading through the silk grasses
Of our front yard, oh youth
You hurt, you haunt, for I have
Misheard the ruling of a judge in
June with no breeze, the defendants scream but
I remain silent, staring at you and I know
Brown orbs like mine carry nothing
You see them, stormy and irrational as
Strawberry milk words pouring
Out of my mouth, childish tie-dye
Crop-top shirt like Dan's of mine,
Incredulous! Questions sent to fireflies who
Answer not, just blinking luminescence,
His kaleidoscope eyes always
Sparkled at me, the game was too enjoyable
Pricking, poking, dancing, you're mean!
I hid from you in my tiny fort
Wrapped myself up in your taunting, and now
Twist strings about your conscience,
Iain is fleeting constellations, broken telescopes,
Glancing at galaxies like a thief,
Cut the knots we made and travel to the place
Where we are running again
Dewy grass in dusky summer, bells
Toll the approach of the engine
A whistle crying deep in the night.

-A.K.-