at first—a pool of stillness, you in white 
you step into a circle of light 
  
	 	        * 
you & the boy on black water shimmering 
  
	 	        * 
  
& in the boy’s eyes you see the first 
boy. leaning by the water—looking. earth 
inside his iris, pulling—parting. he sees
the flame in his eyes and wants to be deeper,
he dives. the boy swimming down a boy. sky 
rippling in his place—then applauding—rain 
  
                        *	
the seagull lies dead at your feet. again, 
the boy is backstage, polishing the gun. 
as droplets watch from the black, you run off 
you wait in a dark hallway for the shot. 
  
                        *	

in this silence, your grandmother rises like magma 
  
	                * 
  
it fires— the lights blink on—you & the boy
in the rain, you hold hands—briefly—and bow 
  
	          	* 
  
two candles by the deep end, flickering 
  
	 	        * 
  
the moon in your pool, your feet dangling
by his feet—the boy looks in you—the blade 
of your body breaking, softer—softer 
  
	        	* 
floating—one floral shirt, two slippers 
  
  	 	        * 
but you’re in the green now. look— the boy pulling 
you out. you’re seven, he’s seven, you’re soaring 
down a hill in a red wagon, saying higher higher