"Remember our summer nights.
The polyester diner seats.
How the low glow of our love for each other lit every candle
around us.
How we never had any lighters. How we never
thought to bring matches.
But how we burned anyways — as if we burned holes
through our mother’s bellies with gasoline, as if
the doctors opened us up only to find that our
bones were made of
flint.
"
