When Light Was Soft And Everywhere

RUTH DAIGON

we made a party
for everyone we knew
and those we never knew

drank new wine
ate fruit
out of season

and sat on the ground
the smell of damp
rising rich between our knees

and remembered
everything we'd done
or imagined

told stories of a woman
who wore her flesh
like armor

of a child who
swallowed its reflection
in the mirror

of a man
whose clothes
smelled like travel

we talked
to the sound
of baroque violins

walked into rooms
our heads
sprouting ornaments

and later
went back to doing
what we always do