Pierre (I)

Darling, I almost remember when
the unhooked stars and sliced-up moon
were not enough to light you, when
the sky could fit inside your fist
or underneath your heel.

It hurt, I know, I know, to see
your face in every window and
cracks in every mirror and
bullets in anybody’s eyes.

That someone would save you,
that the universe would save you
a seat—
you waited and waited
to come awake.

Nowhere to look but in,
darling.
Nothing to do but fall.

by A.J.