After carrots

After carrots,
asparagus. After
that, a leap
into the roiling
cauldron of lunch.
I can’t
explain to you
how I
arrived here, or
where next,
dogs snapping
at my ankles.
I pour
concrete into abstraction
and place
my fingertips
on your eyelids.
I remember
how close
the ground once
looked, but now
it’s further away
each day.
The sun
cups us in
its cool palm
and feeds us
pieces
of what
we remember.