Finding gold
The afternoon winter sun —
a glass ball,
melted like rose butter
on the surface of the pool.
a glass ball,
melted like rose butter
on the surface of the pool.
I followed it down with my arms
into noiseless relief
where the dark sky money season
can't reach me —
only the memory of every sparkling sea coast
as I kick through past lives.
Some places are a muscle
you can only find
repeating the stretch.
LJ Ireton, 2025
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