Honesty Pants

By Joshua Bennett


That night,
your body was a sapphire ribbon
wrestling with the breath
of the smallest child
in the world.

The darkness of the auditorium
bent to your will like a melting crowbar,
and for the first time in ages
I didn’t mind
the absence of my own shadow,
as I no longer needed him
just to not feel
alone.

There you were
all decked out in fire
azure flames prancing
around your body
as if they could smell
the tiny forests
blooming in your mitochondria.
You levitated across the stage
like a thespian’s prayer,
skin whistling
a thousand melodies too subtle
for these beastly ears
to translate.

This moment
is exactly what the storm
says to the sea
after an especially rough night.

“I didn’t mean to body-slam
your heart that way, love.

It’s just what I do.

No one ever taught me
how to hold things
that don’t last
forever.”