Poem for Cory's First Friends

First friends of your own befriended flesh,

            gay dancers,

                        prancers on twig-end

scented with light and day,

                                    snake-tongued,

            interspersed with laughter,

                        have fallen away.

A certain discouragedfocus, scrimped,

            deflected,

                        shaken by updraft,

wafted and crazily

                        speeded

            in no gracious order

                                    exposed, then, like thieves,

as fallible, stubborn, something less

            to steer by,

                        biding the weather,

whether be dry or cool,

                                    cruel

                        in contempt or foolish

            a malleable tool,

than something for eye to measure, hand

            by holding,

                        bring to the core of

oneself and treasure—tight

                                    brightly

                        to hold them…as lightly

            as they held the light.