Fraying.

We’re tenuous together.

Hanging side by side from her gold chain.

Three, three, two.

Peridot, topaz, amethyst.

Spread thin along the

Stairsteps of a generation.

Somehow,

Amidst every

Birthday undercurrent, every

Snap at a sound,

Every fantastical and inevitable reorganization of

Our lion-hearted loyalties,

Somehow

We’re together in Belgium.

Held up to the light,

Our gaps provide patterns for the lace

As the rays fall through.

Bright white.