TWO IMAGES

MERIWETHER JOYNER | VERMONT

come sluggishly walking back to me like children gone out to play who seeing the dusk set in too quick believe the slowing of feet can ebb the onslaught of time.

I call for them, beckoning their return to me. measured, they begin to peak above the hill home –fuzzy heads, then bodies, and finally feet:

1. the time we lay perpendicular eye to eye, no points converging but a hand outstretched fingers lightly stroking forehead, temple tip of the ear setting a strand back into place again and again a ritual prayer a holding back of the tide and mercifully again.

2. the time after on top of the parking garage when you sat on the ledge and let me stand between your knees all points touching but hands and let me pretend that the tide had not yet come in had not yet washed our sargassum selves to sea.