i'm not explaining this right. there were bombs going off everywhere. i wanted to look for you. i wanted to look for you but it's always such a waste of time. it's the needle in the hay, and so on, and nothing, whatever. bombs went off one after another, crisp and lethal. the sky was desperately attempting to maintain some kind of serenity. i shouted up 'i love you so much for your desperation' and then i realized that i was praying. it was like a prayer, how to really do it, the way we were not taught. i wanted to find you and ask you if you've ever really prayed and if you said yes i'd ask you for what? but you were still far, you were still nowhere. i wrote lists in my head of things desperate for other things. i counted them off, 1-2, behind the bombs (1-2) i could hear the pencils lead-tip scribble inside my head. i decided then that if i hadn't found you by dawn i'd grab one of these bombs, light a match and swallow it whole.
birds were panicking and gathering, forming groups. they using their little bodies to create weird, thick images in the sky and maybe that was them praying too. it hurt my eyes to watch them. the cracks like wrinkles in the face of the pavement were all filled with blood. it swam slowly and gurgled with the heat, a thick dark burgundy. as soon as i saw the birds my hands flew right from me and disappeared to chase them. a blue-eyed boy i knew well that you didn't know at all was there calling me over to a shaded green spot underneath a tree. it was a mossy secret the bombs did not yet know. with the missing hands and your missing love i went to him. together we pretended there weren't any bombs. i pretended my hands had found the birds and then they became one, claws and all. we talked quietly about the tree we leaned up on - or it leaned up on us - i'm not sure - i was only just then learning. after each second clicked i understood the one before it as a fresh one licked its heels. 'seconds never crawl,' he said, 'not anymore.' i understood. i tried to catch sight of the seconds sprinting, never touching the ground, but i couldn't and i didn't feel bad at all, i didn't blame them for moving like that. i just wanted them to take me with them. somehow the bombs were shouting all our names. i could feel the exact weight of just how far you were from me. it felt like sinking. i didn't even miss my hands, to hell with it, i thought - i could only think of yours, and as the tired earth shivered and the brilliant birds were blown to falling feathers, the sky still desperately seeking solace, the blue-eyed boy held my face to his and kissed me. inside the smoke and distant cries he let his tongue lick the tips of my teeth. he shook my shoulders as if to wake me up. pulling back from him, his eyes were two mouse traps and mine those two blind mice, he said 'so smooth.' he placed his steady fingertips that felt distinctly unlike yours on my two front teeth and then my bottom lip. 'so smooth.' with a swiss army knife from his pocket he carved both our initials into the tree and laid my head against them. could we fit in you? was he how asked me, like he was ordering a drink from a too-pretty-waitress. 'the birds, the sorry sky, me?' the people left were aleady ghost-like and everything capable of making sound was throwing a temper tantrum for no one, for nothing.
he waited for answers as the trees leaves screamed, keeping up with the wind. i hoped the sky had my hands, i hoped it would give them to you. i looked dead-on into his blue blue eyes, the smell of left-over burst open bombs made it hard to breathe, i leaned my face into his mark on the tree and i licked the freshly carved initials, bottom to top. i laid flat down on my back in the grass and let the bombs eat up my brain. i moved the taste of the tree bark around in my mouth, thinking about existing solely as the whole planet earth for so long, for all this time, then filling up with blood, and then suffocating inside smoke that lasts forever before turning totally to dust.
i saw my hands then, finally, in the mouth of an oil-black crow in flight. i closed my eyes. the blood lingered with the grass, smelling like childbirth and chaos. i didn't want to talk, it didn't matter anymore, a needle in the hay. they say this is right when i fell asleep, they say i missed the worst of it.