a revolution is stars & stoplights

Dapple off highway. Mid-roadtrip. 

The brook runs against my feet. 

My eyes are burning 

as if i’ve stared at some relic 

long enough to recite its backstory. 

That summer, the trees draped 

their cardigans over you

as you lay in a forest of sunflowers

an artifact strewn and forgotten

in the grass. 

A revolution is starting, somewhere. 

The little lights buzzing            at midnight. 

The sky asks to join

dropping little gifts on your tongue, hands. Hold on 

to the ladybugs 

drowning their leaf boats.               

Hold on to the bears. Ten years slips by 

so quickly. It’s just stars 

& stoplights from here. 

You are a falcon limping 

on the interstate

clawing the ground like a takeoff ramp.

What questions would you ask the constellations?

The sky is stained 

pink, orange,      a sunset or sunrise,

however you want to romanticise 

war. 

The doves were released 

that summer. 

What lies beneath this beating heart?