Across the street, two boys begin to bury
a girl in leaves. Kneeling at her side
they show her how to cover her face – don’t
forget to breathe, I imagine they tell her,
when what they really should say is, Try
to remember the smell of sun through it all. It’s
a rare courtship. I watch her help,
gathering the leaves to her like love,
hiding herself. No matter how many, it’s
the same heavy. One leaf will find its way
beneath her shirt, another will tickle her lip.
What she’ll hear is almost like breathing,
and it must be the leaves. Sounds beyond love,
sounds beyond love… Remember, I would tell her,
there are such things.