The Air Sitting

Time upon once their sitting

And a girl, a boy,
Damp as dew-grass: logs
Carrying lakes after rain and
Slugged shoulders stooped, the
Pit wet and embers glowed going

This is a fair tale

Slouched in a winding iron bench, they

Stared, eyes ash clouds, deep and
Sunk. Slowly, sparingly, she extended
Slumber to poke the pit, the fire faded

He exhaled

Visible breath broke the backyard balance.

The quiet night was sliced by burnt
Orange glow and black crackle, the
Dank dark peeled by peace and
Flow of smoke

He exchanged.

Both sat still and did not stand, she

Looked to him- her gaze raised
His heart rebeated, behind their seat
A pool of air, clear and new and unnoticed
Until then, ready to be used

It was already gone