we sat on the earth, like red jam on white bread before it's
smeared flat and pressed deep into the spaces made by the yeast,
resting in the shade - our shoes held more than our feet as
we waited for the sun's lightwaves to finish chasing our skin.

two dark blue streaks of mascara marked my best white sweater,
but you were done crying before the sparrows stopped chirping,
before the coyotes surrounded
us, before the pack's
leader bit into your pretty leg and it trickled blood.

you didn't flinch, you just stared into the animal's eyes
until it turned and left; then all the rest of them followed,
and i could see your hands tremble as
you watched me wrap your

leg with my sweater and i could hear your voice tremble as
you asked me if we were just dreaming all of this and i
didn't answer, i just asked if you thought you could stand.

Moi, j'avais jamais rien dit. Rien

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