strong sun

the sky was heavy the day
i decided i liked orange
and pink together, torn

down the gray, octopus
curtain and placed a flower
bombed flag in its place,

sprinkled bits of periwinkle
to calm the delight

a shocked, blank edge calling

and i would sink into the heat
of a long bath, another too
cold day—the sun has slept

for weeks in Seattle—

and float between the shattering
like when i was very small, like
a torn hibiscus bleeds and
laying face-up in a kiddie pool,
legs a tad too long and splayed
in the time-eating heat

i tried to rub the sun from my eyes

but it just sunk in more
until i could see it behind

closed lids—
was a dream in focus
my body a boat
adrift and still

sought out the halting heat that
pauses every thing

this version of me, just
a little bit more time.