Molten lava cracks through the heavens.
"Come, come look, Mom!"
She calls me,
a rare welcome into her world.
I drop what I'm doing,
excuse myself, rush to her side.
We look up and stare
at the glowing embers
of underlit clouds
and stretches of sky.
The cross breeze ripples
at our dress hems,
as our bellies press
against the deck's handrail.
For a short moment she lets
my palm grace her shoulder.
The eagerness in her voice remains,
despite how cool she is.
A Metro train with six cars
rumbles by on an elevated track
The sounds of sirens weave through the streets.
I let it all blur out, because
right now, she wants Me.
"Did you get it? Let me get it!"
She says, pointing a camera towards
the bleeding light of sunset over the city.
I soak in this micro-memory,
where pretense melted like magma
and for a sacred second,
we could linger in this golden joy.
