Eight years old and I snap the cap
clear, look down its throat
as I hold its neck. I spy this world
bottled flawless from beyond its sky.
Fog from another field hovers there,
slowly rolls and tumbles over itself
as it parts and fades. Underneath,
a lake black as peat, framed by the glass
lip: a bead around the rim screaming o.
There is only so much sweetness
in this world. I kiss and kiss and it is gone.