“That’s What Katy Did”
I still remember your name.
I remember the street we grew up on.
Meeting your past is meeting a stranger
poster of the past, stronger
hearts beating too fast
the last passage and entryway
burned by a folding hand
a cloth napkin, beads dipped in spotting
around your slinky waist
and sparklers in the naive dark.
I remember your hairy pea coat,
the ravens in your hair.
I still remember you as someone new:
Sparkling jewel
knees dipped in honey
some caramel whisper
piercing ears with kisses
warning bells and panicked intake
to breathe in last inches of your clothing
to liquid bowls, reflections of cake
where laughter runs away from you.
nicholauspatnaude 
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