by Letitia Jiju Lenstravelier/Unsplash for Goofy Say they didn’t freeze light. Say the first beam didn’t stumble out of a frizz of electron, heady as a black pearl on an oyster’s tongue. Say the lattice didn’t hunger back or long to be strewn shingle as I, asleep, that whole summer on your shoulder’s flint shore. Did you know the oyster has a small heart? Like a wounded sock. I stitched mine into muscle. Loved you fitfully. Sleep bent on my star-jagged dream needled to poem b