it is the exchange of trust
secrets held like sweetbread
all buttery and careful

they are dust and fairies
electromagnetic
they may tickle the skin

they sparkle
and have mouths
for singing

they are fillings
in the precious little gobs
of children
that pick up your favorite songs
and distribute them
across county lines

the measure of care
calculated
can never be
accurate

it is too big
it is too great
it is full of kissing

let me say that
again

it is full of kissing
and has little to do
with logic

these secrets
sustainable
carried like babies
in a pear-ripe
womb

they remind us
of safety
when still-quiet
birds
and power lines
await their blue hour
their twilight

the illumination
sufficient
to view terrestrial
objects
and all the brightest
stars