When we were light

By:Lauren Gargarella

after Chiyuma Elliott

We were eager to see everything. We found ourselves bending around corners. The leaves— we dove through them like tide pools.

You said release me, and bent yourself into dark corners, you closed yourself in. What I felt was cold.

You tried to come back, but walls are unforgiving. When you finally disappeared, I remembered how I breathed your light, that I lived to breathe it. I watched the final leaves settle on the dusty floor of our bedroom.

Let me remember you: We danced. Over seasons. We fed the greenery, we grew. We dissipated.