there were days once
that melded into weeks.
but i threw time in the blender,
stewed it in a pot, let it simmer,
boiled it over, collected it, bottled it,
poured it out.
those days evaporated, climbed
condensed into shapes we stared at
lying on the grass. don't you remember
lying on the grass?
i remember. we were wet and rusting,
the ironworks of our bodies
slowly eroding, oxidizing,
returning to the soil.
and now that blended time lets me
grow into a tree, into a child,
into your heart.