Cinquefoil heaven behind tract homes,
creeping with emerald mouse-tail vines
& candied seeded garnet thimbles,
you grew beside the place we buried
goldfish, caged mice, the small pets
we were permitted, first deaths
wrapped in toilet tissue, tucked
into metal bandage boxes
the size of packs of cigarettes
we later smoked in that field, too tufted
to let us dig deep, not that we could,
skinny arms, toy trowels. Alone
I crouched, neck freckling, seared,
liquored up with radiance, with interfere—
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