yellowed in translation,
words paling, fading stains,
nicotine hands.
Even our fingers
fronding the air like palms
couldn't say
for certain
what it was
in dandelions --
blowhard blizzards
seeds swarming.
We saw the score
composed
upon the sky,
the whirling scherzi
the sleet minuets
clung like the bite
of a zither --
In our ears
In our limbs
And we danced as well
as anyone did
with a foot in the hive
and bodies
in hum at the edge
of forget
Written with Brendan Bonsack
By Reka Jellema and Brendan Bonsack
September 2014