knowing what the sound of the wind is like
through board empty boards of houses,
a match on rough brick strikes,
the flame burning higher & higher into the sky
wearing neon yellow blouses;
I called out into the wind asking where you were
& you replied it was all a lie,
the mask you’d worn for so long
we walked on the beach & the sun was a blur
behind growing gray clouds & the height of the sun
tendrils of a rainbow blooming
& nothing was wrong,
not anymore