the golden ratio

II.

six guitar strings that whirred
under your hands
like sweet mosquito wings
seeking my blood
and that heart that bore it

III.

one shoe swallowed somewhere
below the water-rafting bridge;
the movements traced
by our joyous limbs
stitched
into its flailing, free laces

IV.

eight cassettes that buzzed
through steel wool speakers
in their scratchy eighties' voices
as our car rolled down
puzzle-lines of scenic summer;
each mile allotted us
one thousand words

V.

not once
have we pretended
to have one another
completely deciphered

VI.

three loads of laundry
that flapped on humid cords of June
as we threaded our toes
through sunned grass
and dandelions that fell apart
under the weight of our whispered wishes

VII.

three blankets we took
as cotton skins
in order to hide us
from December's huffing, wet breath
when the world seemed
as frigid, tired, and unyielding
as our stiffened fingers

VIII.

nine nights
when we completely
transcended
flesh

IX.

eight failed jack-o-lanterns
that trapped befuddled demons
and waxy scorch marks;
our porch flooded,
an ocean of fingers and seeds
tangled in sloppy orange pulpweed

X.

eight pumpkin pies
we gave to our relatives
at Thanksgiving;
we kept the laughter
for ourselves

XI.

seven figurative seas
we have yet to discover
the salts and suns of


I.

one
you;

let us neverend