We had only the night so we lied under the trees.
The moonbeams reflected off the skin of the lemons.
I watched an amber glow race from your cigarette to your puckered
Then I put mine to yours.
I watched sap cry from the bark,
and our exhaled smoke tainting the tree’s fresh breath coming from the
honeydew-colored leaves above our bodies.
You found a single butterfly wing that night.
You raised it against the breeze and said,
“I don’t want to think about being without my other half,”
as it zigzagged down to the grass blades.
The orange of the wing burned brighter than everything ornamenting the
brighter than the citrus sun peaking over the horizon, sending us back
to our separate beds.
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