The summer I turned seventeen I fell
in love with the boy
with swollen lips and freckles
splayed across his nose.

He set off firecrackers nightly
within my heart, soft sparks spewing
at the places where his fingers
left tender marks on my
lily-white skin.

We shared fragments of sick,
infected bones, like the time we dove
off the cliff by the ocean, resulting
in your shattered arm and my
wildly palpitating heart, mere
seconds from bursting.

We mixed our blood, vowing to
be soul mates for life, blade to thumb
watching the swirling
of you – German, English, Polish – and
me – Indian, Mexican, Swede – our
souls eager to blend
into one.