writer's block

Your hair danced in the wind

yesterday, and the trees

turned your eyes green.

You took

a photo of me, my skin 

flushed from the fire, my 

eyes closed on accident

and I took one

her magenta marker

the silent clock

my desk, now darker

with dust like chalk.

his name in my phone

my swimming mind

his teeth were like moonstone, 

mouth open that night.

today's air tastes like berries

and overused metaphors. the shadows run

across golden ground, and i look 

at our old stone wall like they would in farmers' days.

a boundary, a gate