I feel blackberries
summer dust and Puget Sound
vein through me. A goldfinch
deserts a thistle. Should I?
Her hand on me
wandering in the thicket, collecting
on the hill
I hold my breath; the trap
of green thorns
waits to close
at my slightest touch.
Scratched with summer sweat
we watch Puget Sound
slip salt
through Ballard Locks.
in Lake Washington, fresh water
Tinged with salt,
life diffuses out.
She laughs, this is our exchange.