Young

By
I tried writing you down in permanent ink

The words are pressed flowers
To the Amazon.

You were there and then not there

Young in the way of horses
Of snow-melt streams.

We were
Lost and found together

Playing Eve
Thought that I could steal your ribs
That you would follow me
Out of paradise.

Slipped and twisted
A newborn snake
In the silver green dress

Young in the way of
Sweet pea shoots
Of robin’s egg blue.





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