My fire love

i remember you that day, with knitted brow.

like my in-progress sweater, that has turned twice into a mobius strip

 

me, puppy exhausted, 

had nothing more in me to explain

 

now you,

necklaces,  sea-green and rings, red

you find what is good and beautiful and hold it out in your painted hands

 

look at her—my Mahuika

 

you would like this—

mum poured the ash from the fire on her garden

wood and fire, she said

i said, everything is burning

they said, this reaches every one of your organs

 

it will be some time before we can put our hands in the cave of each others’ hips

and a while before i won’t remember

any of this