after Frank Stanford

the dovetailed chest of rifles in Kyle’s basement
called our names sirenlike

the Skoal ring in John’s backpocket
took the shape of a halo an unimportant angel

the mud and wild smeared across Bret’s face
flying off the rope-swing into air untouched

the dust fracturing light on Justin’s windshield
driving down dry mill road into forever

the blood on Stuart’s mouthguard after his chin
split like an overripe peach

the empty beer bottles in Sean’s red pickup
kept us from sleep

&
the riverwater in my open eyes
a kiss