School Playground at Night

The air is still.
I smell your powder
As you sit on top the swing,
Your skin the moon,
Your face brushed soft
By edges of the light
Above the parking lot.

You open like a hope chest.
Secrets pass unfolded,
Delicate.
I read them hungry
Though with care.
Inside this quiet night,
I memorize you.

And I know for you
It isn't love.
I know you need
An intimate release,
A safe transfer of documents,
A nearness.

I absorb you
And your lunar pale,
Although I know
I do not hold you,
Don't really touch you at all.

8/3/26

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