December Remembers August
It’s almost December now.
Since when?
Time rushes like sand, and like sand
Sticks in hair, teeth, skin
Hides in corners of suitcases,
shoes, ear canals.
Well, yes, you were on the beach once.
Sun burned sky, skin penny orange.
Water wet. Sand grit.
Skin. Skin. Skin.
Granules and memories
Like mud
In the carry-on baggage
You’ve yet to clean out.
Our bodies
Suspended in water
Pressing together,
Insoluble solution.
I fell for
August’s awkward coppered airs.
Perfect copper sunset turns to rust.
Red, orange, green, white. Metal, dust.
August painted verdant rings around skin.
We were painted, still
Drenched water, pigment, color
Dissolving, insoluble, solving.
Skin.
I fell for it then.
Days passing like sand,
Tracking mud memories through,
August, September, October, November.
It’s almost December now.