Full
It’s the flickering, the
Sunburst-gold tail of a fish
swishing back and forth,
blindly following curved glass. It finds the
arms of the kelp all too familiar
And it’s the sun rising against
backlit San Francisco shrouds,
As we’re driving through pollution-mixed fog,
erupting from gray only to be inducted
by flames into a bleeding sky
Maybe we’ll never be ready…
It’s closing our eyes and counting to three
Jumping onto a viscous trampoline
falling into the sun
drinking in heat and bursting
from our heart to our tanned skin
It’s forgetting so much—
This is what it’s like to close our eyes
blindsight teaching us light in darkness
only to wake up to a power outage
This is what it’s like to trace footsteps
back to the smallest first imprint in the sand
left as a receipt of us
But the day we see the sky like this again
wrapped by the arms of our youth
and painted orange
— I think we’ll remember, not relive.
So I find myself at the same edge,
if circles even have edges,
Revisiting the feeling of saying “goodbye”
Not knowing it will be our last.
—
Thoughts on departing. Inspired by Neil Hilborn.
