met a boy with irregular heartbeats.
He was famous for his fainting spells,
her voice box rumored to be fitful.
When summer rains came
and stouter children stayed inside,
they sat together on the fire escape
and waited for lightning to visit.
In the crackle and glare, they smiled
with their mouths full of water.
She had a theory about him:
His eyes could make the grass grow.
He maintained: The trouble in her throat
was a bird of paradise still learning to sing.
They walked through torrents of rain, stopping only
to save abandoned books from mud puddles.
After the storm, a porcelain beetle
crawled over the boy’s palm, searching.
The boy turned his hand against the sunlight,
while the beetle made its way, slowly, higher.
Visit our shop and subscribe. Sponsor us. Submit and become a contributor. Like us on Facebook and follow us on Twitter.