THIS WAS THE BOYby Doug Paul Case who cracked the joints of my ribcage, expanding, whose call kissed my ear, the boy who stood where lightning struck just after ducking under the café’s awning. He pointed to fireflies darting through rain and the darkness once illuminated by the crash, the crush of electricity between our lips and the sky. I will pull his name from my teeth, scar it across my thigh, because this was the boy who burned through my eyes’ clouds, to find my only sundial, waiting for his flash. |