Nothing matters so
without the possibility of being  

altogether forgotten. I was a girl,
which meant something to me  

and to others, which seemed
to mean more the longer  

I’d become it. Phenomena
of us gathered on deck  

as each thunderbone struck.
Today wanted tomorrow’s  

temperature, I wanted Eric’s
look at Amy for myself. 

Ardor settled over. We pined,
so we became. Madness is taking  

the same measure repeatedly,
but then, there was daylight,  

which did the same. Sky,
envy of all transformations,  

uninjured and split from a space
it invents. Who didn’t wish  

to be studied like that: for stars
or for a change in plans.