I keep getting whiffs of yesterday's air-
a redwhite&blue bow and cinnamon perfume. I'm blowing smoke rings at heaven. I'm reading about Apollo's heart burning, about Daphne
and how she turned her body into bark, her hair a leafy canopy
and loved not a one.

my head is too hard. love is not an arrow or a sword.
a pretty net of gems, intersections, like lines on our hands -
i think that's what we're make of.