for Kayleen
There, in the middle of the morning,
was a pause in which we floated
on the surface of the pond, floated
as if we were two rocks who, at least
for a moment, had learned how
to be feathers. If they were to write
the story of my life, they would likely
not mention the way the blue damselflies
landed on our legs, the way we drifted
into the reeds, but I hope I always remember
the way your legs dangled in the cold water,
the way your eyes stayed with mine
as I cried, the way we floated, no matter
how heavy the words, we floated,
like daisies, we floated.