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.