spinning stars

tall grass bellows around their thighs and snaps shut in strands and bones says, i have fledged before even then he was thinking entertaining all those possibilities but for now all charlie knows is that bones is so far away, so far from his first home he has trekked a thousand-mile on his two legs, leaving a small wake in every green

charlie wants to retrace every footmark from here to iowa but bones touches his elbow let’s go back now and charlie knows bones is swallowing this place whole; swallowing it and only later will he see the tender retching that follows something you love but cannot hold

they turn toward coiled flattened tents and lights, stop at a ruffled oak on the fieldedge to kiss, charlie pressed against the ridgy bark turning his bark, too, into ridges and he wishes bones could live on top of him like that but soon enough they will be back home friends with cars and trolleys

for now they spin stars as the lot empties, holding each other around some invisible center, the sky forming streaks and wobbly circles like an all-night exposure, going around and around until they fall down dizzy and do not move