If someday is today, periwinkle cloudswill bow at my feet, you’ll put the moonyou promised to deliver on my doorstep. We’ll tie the rope we made round rebel bodies to keep them chaste, break through rows & rows of witnesses, a rite of passage, bite into sponge cake adorned in white lace. Then consummate the night. Entwine eight limbs moving slow inrushing waters, aiming for safety, the home shore.  But it isn’t. Today is today, and between us,I see skeleton keys passing in these great fluidsighs attending thirsty throats, unlocking alien  roars resounding loud in my core. The oneyou carved from the gray bark of the magnolia tree trapped in the churchyard. It was smooth then. Now covered in craters, it mourns the loss of unblemished skin & flaunts flowers in pastel gowns at passerby to pretend there is confidence packed deep inside,pressed down like a fairytale tucked tightbetween brown pages. But we know better. You were the warm accent seducing my ear, the rough stubble rubbing my tender cheek, the right size to subdue five feet & eight inches  of fear cutting open my breast with a knife. Now your vows, fragrance rising from free lips, float aimless about me, separating like split ends of hair.  You do laps in the sky, a six-winged hawk in search of a sturdy branch to alight on. I stroll in your shadow, a sly siren singing to a heart tilled for growing time. ____________________________________________________________ Sarah Marquez is an MA candidate at Southern New Hampshire University. Sarah is based in Los Angeles and have work published and forthcoming in various magazines and journals, including Amethyst Review, Crêpe & Penn, Ink&Nebula, Peculiars Magazine and Royal Rose. When not writing, Sarah can be found reading, sipping coffee, or tweeting @Sarahmarissa338.