he is an
unlit, lithe lantern lingering
atop his staircase,
limbs liquidizing as
he stutters
when he tells his
mother that he
loves Adam,
she becomes
origami-thin,
a silent
chameleon trying to
hide beneath floorboards
she whispers that
no son of hers will
wrap a boy’s waist in magnolias
and maple syrup
months later,
he becomes powdered sugar unfurling in
another boy’s lips
the boys craft their own little eden—
shoulders rested on the stump
of a forgotten tree,
opened bottles of milk by
their foreheads,
apple seeds stuffed inside their teeth
