To Bear Past The Light

how many ways will we find to pretend

before we learn to fly

from the heels of our boots

from the pit of our navels

from the throbbing of our foreheads

He almost expected this; it's why he called it impossible so many times. The years have shown him that all events eventually mirror if he turns away long enough to squint. It's fire now that hunts him in the valleys, fire that burns the same each year, fire that burns away the drowning blood of houses. He runs on the cusp where grass meets slippery mud, and knows he should have expected this. It's why he's finding her now, on the beach where he left her; it's why he prefers to leave things in flames. Yet he is unprepared for the impossible meeting; he thought it would be whiter. He thought he had seen it in the mirror of a dark window, noon-sun bright and cheerful, awfully cheerful.