I am you promise

August is a time for love

and dying

last call for the way we live

the ground reeks

of last night’s rain

protein’s dew crowns

the pollen at your door

I grow your body into a burial mound

and pull your arms into mine

I won’t let go now

we have learned to taste the clouds

on the tips of our noses

walking on fear and fungus

we hallucinate with birds

on beds of broken obsidian

I will never be 

alone again

you said

the mountain keeps no secret.