Fireworks

Happy 4th of July from here in the US of A!

​My summer is nearly over, so my muse is once again restless. Thus, more poetry. Hurrah! Anyway, a word on the land of the free: America, to me, has always represented equity, and opportunity, and hard work, and freedom, and (extended) family. Despite the current political climate, I still believe that there can be hope and there can be peace–the thing people migrated to America for years and years ago. Spending the 4th of July here is interesting. It's made me believe in all the "naive" hopes and dreams I once had when I was seven. 

Maybe that's a good thing? 

​4th of July: we are crazy
dancing, feet instinct
moving to live band
music.


In the horizon the sky is
neuron synapsing: hand grazing mine
electric, cliff diving
euphoric, aeroplane
take-off fantastic--


your
lips pressed against mine.
One day. The hope of it.


Today: your
lips curled up to your eyes.
There are film reels of me
dancing to jazzy
songs.


And the horizon: gentle
pixie dust fall—wonderful,
awestruck, believing in fairies
again. And forgiveness
again. And grace
again. And
God again.