The summer was hot
You stewed strawberries I grew
small wild mountaineers
carefully skimmed scum from the top
mixed with good cream, sugar and salt
and left to freeze overnight

The kitchen door yawns
I pitch towards the stove from the bad side of the sofa
trying to feel you there like a canyon in the dark
There are many ways to vanish a rabbit
Would you go easy into the woods? The desert?
Did they eat you?

In the morning, I stepped into an infantry of ants
Following that formic line, stepping on them carefully all the way
one thousand casualties to the pantry where midsummer night
curdled sugar cream in the bowl
and a hundred ants lay sticky-footed, drowned sugarplum soldiers

Forgetting yourself, forgetting fridges, forgetting your name
pulse for pulse
limb for limb
you padded behind me.
Silvery under the fingertip veil,
you looked good enough to bury