LATE SEPTEMBER

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