Into Dust

It's sand, mud and dirt

but some see the blue beyond

and call it a beach.

She almost forgets.

Summer nights still taste like smoke

and fireflies still dance.

The snow was melting

when you talked to me

when they talked to you

when we stood with them

and their thinning perfume

their black backpacks

their straightened hair

their plans of the ride home.

i have trusted

myself.

i have trusted

my body.

i have believed

it will not bite back

that it will not feel the roaring rush

of danger in what is safe.

i have thought