www.zacstafford.com

Sound: ice cubes in a glass
Color: deepest purple
Smell: ocean
Sensation: being watched
Place: tree house

The sun by the ocean, set.

from their lofty treehouse
where as children they were married
and where as children they nursed
false wounds bandaged with
newspaper and crepe
and drank sidecar’s from invisible
cups with ice cubes clinking–

in this treehouse they
sat, the deepest purple
seeping through the cracks
in the boards that time has
pulled apart,

they sat, the purple of the sun
thickening the air, making their
silence impenetrable,
the wounds no longer
false, but the bandages
as effective as ever.

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