The sun, hot and sweet, dripping
runny yellow into the creases of my fingers, yolk
boiling up into our faces, mouths —
stinging skin, burning hair.
eyes squeezed shut, we laugh anyway.
The kitchen smells like thyme
and the rosemary you brought in
from outside. Sunbeams
across the floor, egg yolk
on the ceiling. How did it get up there?
Stars outside the window,
sky pink and blue and white
just outside the door. Eggs in the pan,
frying, sizzling, blue flame beneath sputtering
and you are warm against my shoulder, your hair in my mouth
sweaty from dancing in the rain, skin singing
in the warm sunny side up
that's become us.
You aren't mine, but I love you all the same. You are cool summer nights and warm dry skin on mine. I love you.