the land
you died after the harvest
your final resting place
an expanse of straw-colored land
removed from the sky by distance
and scattered light
your hands as though they were still making something
frozen in the need to restitch the fabric
or reapply the glue
to the carpet samples and wooden legs
being kept in your body by your hands
in life
leaving every part of your body except your hands
in death
i remember how you let us stay out past the sunset
in the darkening hours
the heat from our hearts and lungs displacing the cold outside
as we ran
chasing each other and nothing at all
climbing
everywhere and nowhere
impulse after impulse
the orange and yellow atmosphere
moving to match our blood
and quicken us one last time
before the violets and blues returned -
this time with more black in their bodies -
pinks dissolving into true darkness
surrounding us on all sides
how it wasn’t the dark that made us anxious
as much as letting go of the golden hour