We Will Forget We Were

One night, in August, we floated through a nebula.
The lake had stilled her mirror, offering herself
to the lights in the sky. And we, as small disturbances, drifted on our backs, arms feathering the water around us: a motion
too human for grace. 

I didn’t expect insignificance to feel
so soothing, like forgiveness I had not
realized I was asking for. I stayed that way
for a while, learning to forget myself.

Then your fingers found mine and our impermanence
resurfaced . Lost travellers, you once called us, sharing
in a dream we both stumbled on. Did you see, then,
that we would forget we once knew

a summer on earth, the taste of lake water, the sound
of each other. The knowing
that we were even here,
floating in the dark
together.

[ October 2015 ]