We sway against music sloshing between our temples watch: the soft pulse a sea of moss green points riddle the air above the darkened field soft-bodied entities and their beguiling flares approach but with caution invitation to cling, expire never in our backyard childhood have we seen so many speckling the dark with Morse code dots the tender light let out in poised pursuit -- sky inks onyx-blue beyond tall grasses and the night is warm our bare city feet skim the dew, find traction in considering if our far-away loves can see this tidal of wanting in the kindle of insect hearts enough to signal back through the ever-present beacons of our phones meanwhile we attempt speech my confused tongue canters ahead of me as I melt into the grass
mabel lee 