Greek God Pose

My boyfriend and I
pose beneath the sun,
dying without notice--
or hesitation,
thanking God, Apollo or Hemera
for setting our heads afire.
Here, in the backyard
the wind places its finger
to our browning lips,
and carries voices
from our throats.
Willows reach their arms
to our disengaged torsos
and chill our dewy pulp.

Leaves rattle their tales in our ears
strapping us to the planet.
The brush of bark against our flesh
moves in time with
every unfolding stem,
then sets us ablaze
beneath the sun.
We are helpless.

We rise with hands upon
the other’s hand, arm hair
at attention. Our eyes are alert
when they meet the sky and see
no threat. A chill forms
and recruits mounds beneath
our skin. We delay our exit
but only for half a moment,
then we retreat between shady walls.