Sophie Lynne Creations

I.

The first flowers you gave me were plastic

You said you never wanted them to die

I planted them right by the window

And we corkscrewed red, until

I was a drip on the side of your curved glass

Slipping

Legs sliding

You scooped me up and called me fine wine

II. 

May through July:

Socks in the washing machine

Tumbling, mixing

Hanging in the front yard

Laying back to back

Flipping, folding into each other

A gray and an almost white

III. 

August was drunk like nothing else

Sandy naps and morning eggs

We were runny and over-easy and fell so over-hard 

You mopped me up with toast

I pinched myself like Sriracha

IV. 

Back into the fall forest, 

You cleared your plate and 

Cleared my path, machete slashing brush 

until–

We were still

Toothbrushes and trash cans

I slept more on my left and we became more right

V. 

Somewhere along the line

We danced by a fan to country music

Our chests knitting together

A rise and fall

Friday nights and Monday mornings

You’d hold my head in your hands and I’d hold yours