i watch you twirl sunrays
like flax echoes, limp
in between fingertips.
silence chortles by
deep in iris wells-
captive, i watch you blow songs
trebles resonant in the atmosphere.
when noon burns this distance to ash,
i will crawl in your arms, and
call myself “yours”
and those faces in gritty nooks will whisper,
“there she goes, the girl with no name.”