7:11 p.m., dark again
as daylight, reluctant felon
turns itself in
We tread water at dusk
ask the moon to forgive us
remember when
we were about to begin
and spring broke out in a sweat
all of us on the steps
late evening sunsets
now a memory
as we ease into
the starched white pillow
of winter
This hurts my back,
my father would say
late July days at the beach
when he’d reach beneath the kelp
scoop us kids out of the ocean
We didn’t care
about our father’s pain
our mother’s boredom
just wanted more
of the same—staying up late
party cake, loving the sun
for telling the moon to get lost
as we’d be tossed
by the waves
runaways, ice cream and sand
crusted between our hungry fingers