cake

we got dressed up in turquoise
and you got a little high
in the church yard
hiding behind the evening
light
that disappears like white
paper beneath black ink
the July crickets sang
their legs dancing
musical windmills
we loved the picture
we were living
staying up to outlast
those night stars
every one of them
good loving takes time
and we'd watch them go
to bed
in their milky abstinence
our love aching to
burn like the sun

in December we'll make
a wedding cake from snow