He died each night in the bed
whose skin he peeled back for sleep
and dreamed of the girl he wanted
to please. They hid in a cave
of branches, sugar on tongues
and the green kiss of grass
in summer’s free heat. Earth’s
anchor in the undertow of magma
slipped through their veins
to the heart of hands clasped.
Every smile a curve of the moon
every breath a bud of their bond
untouched by daylight
and the sharp pain of growth.
Poet’s Notes: I composed this poem as spring was approaching summer, taking a look back to childhood’s innocent awakenings. I remember sharp growing pains that woke me at night – and the sweet pain from liking the first, special boy, which kept me awake.