for Kristen
Sewn from spun sugar
Your voice the gentle give of warm taffy
Yards and yards
of pink silk
Woven on cypress branches:
not the sheer drops of Italian hedges,
but the fire resisting macrocarpa,
the ocean cypress,
knit around itself.
Cypress, when burnt,
holds its seeds in tight.
Burns hot, and sparks.
I can taste it in the air around you,
your rough and caramelized center,
the clear sea water running through-
or is it kerosene?
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