Tentative Memoirs to Love

Tonight the moon is crescent and tilted
Like a hammock over which we could dangle our legs
Or a slide on which we lie, become children,
Yellow petal which we could stick over our eyelids, draw eyes
Or sit on, like it is a yellow life boat.

Your palm has crescent lines, held up to your cheek,
It is like they are permanent memoirs to smiles.
You see the purple gorilla hanging from my bag,
For a moment, you are one, like you take little
Pictures like I take little pictures
But the picture is only mine to see.

Once in a while there are swings:
Seats that traded their feet for wings.
We are birds.

I do not need to be pushed.
As a little kid,
Nobody was there in the park so I
Flew and I flew and I was alone I
Taught myself to swing I
Do not need to be pushed I fell a few times but I didn't tell anyone I cried I
Taught myself to swing I
Nobody came to the park so I
Taught myself to swing.

You push me anyway.
Until my shoulders relax, my feet fall,
And I am still flying,
Because you
push me anyway.

Once in a while I dangle my feet
Off your quilt legs.
I lay back and rest my head,
A child safe, in your
Crescent and tilted hammock self.