marigold taxi
I remember the fever
was blushed on the berries
– thorns to my skin
breathless the trek
to a place
in the forest –
where sworn you would come
to claim me again

for every transgression –
another
I love you –
was consequence
weighed in moments
so sweet
hands spoke in quiet
of distances over –
where words came
unraveled
in mid-summer heat

the timbers
were prying –
as angels stood
watching
the giving of graces
one afternoon long
calmed by the weaving
of light through the branches
– a cool before falling
as the world
slumbered on

. . .