BROKE SOME EGGS

i do well to disremember our rabbits in twig finch amber
as we smoke through the wood, with our sodden feet a-flight
with all the vitriol of an honest innocence
stirring up the moss of our intimate arrivals to a distance
where a touch is a sun.
our sweat beading in the caudron on our next oblivion
like a swollen tongue full of too dark stars with nimble feet
where the universe leans into our nostalgia
like a hobo with a ‘bout of uneven being.

broke some eggs
and i apologized

to a silence.