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.