Moonshine Baby

Moonshine baby
was I,
only seen
in the slits of the sky,
between trees and
underwater glistening,
and on occasion
smashing into the earth
from a hefty height.

So
when I arrived ground bound
for a season in the heat of June,
we sat
in that wooden porch swing
under the willow weeping,
getting drunk on whiskey,
and listening
to the hiss of the vines
as they slithered up tree trunks
in the summer,
when death
laughed at the back

of my throat,
and I shivered
when you said with a giggle
that we could live forever
because I knew it was a lie. 

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