last january. you were chrysanthemum strings
i was damp gunpowder—together
we were light year fishlines
waiting for moths to the light
the way high school girls
take a metaphor as fairytale & forget
their lives are shorter
than a snowstorm. recall
the promise broken in november
when slush fell onto the campus, slipping down
our cheeks, blushing, your red backpack
fluttering in the wind.
yet both of us believed if we waited
for one more year, there’d be fireworks.
& we could ignore what hunted our names

you were fern fiddleheads, i was flower crowns.
together we yearned for a winter
we could not survive, only to revive
late april, empty sun. you were clip-on earrings,
i was morning still asleep.
i was chalk face, you were expo drawings
hallways where we passed & passed
& never stopped passing until someone
was supposed to wave & someone
was supposed to look away, even in a century
the sun keeps walking out. & we wait
in our own ways

but today.
it’s first snow & rewinding another january
this time you are fireworks by the sun
i am bullet holes in the night
& we realize. it’s all the same