that on the same stellate night

you and i would be born into the world. two minutes apart.

our harsh cries soaked up by the warmth

of our mother’s chest, her smile bright and wide like the sun,

which is like love, which is the most tender of gifts –

even on the hardest of days.

               that we would peel time from our bodies

like oranges. slow and sticky. our unripe limbs

pounding with blood as we chased each other

barefoot in flowing yellow grass. the songbirds singing

to us ballads about boyhood and softness. how we thought, under

the cotton-candy clouds, that we would remain this way forever.  

              that for years, we would fall asleep

in the same bed. your head resting against my shoulder

like the slightest touch of grace. the dawn dripping

through the window like honey while our hearts beat as one unit,

the rhythm sounding like the most beautiful of songs.

              and in the mornings, our parents finding us like this --

curled up under the blanket, light illuminating the hollows of our bodies

as we bled warmth into each other.