our arcadia

it was not ordinary

in some garden nearby
between that supernova and a dirt road,
afternoons were spent exchanging peppermints
back and back again
across tongues.

sitting enclosed and cultivating unknown
openings, clinging and pressing
in that beguiling hothouse,
discrete. and favoring of these other sweet
hard blooms.

thinking or not:  in the far future
in that some other of space and of time,
will there be the shining of spider chrysanthemums
and will there be bright secrets like these.