Today you were copper.
You were not the
last few seconds of rain
that fall from
sponge-soaked limbs.
You were copper and
polished and slipping through
the shapes of me, attaching
legs to my
paper-doll shadows
until they could stand up
alone.  Marcasite, its
silver facets, platinum.
You were lens flares
and warm humid nights of
heat lightning; 300 watts
of strobe light in an
infinite blue of oceans
full throttle to my
counterglow.  Today,
I felt your copper sun
break through the
summer sleep of sky,
the silence of
my sun-light eyes.