Thanks for reminding me how
to seduce mean
from time. I’m lost

inside the simple-eyed cricket
stare of my junk
watch. I want you

on an island next to mine.
We’d build a skyway
then blow it apart

each night in our sleep. I’d build
a dinghy, tuck oars inside
its belly, shove it your way,

get back to this. There would be
no meantime. But, no,
forever those flats, that child

unborn, naturally
washed out with the tide.

I no longer darken—I lighten
my own steps.