counting

i'm superstitious when it comes to numbers

four.
that wine red liquid,
solidified,
fringed in that golden haze
the colors of the insides
of my eyelids.


seven.
prime numbers,
primary thoughts swirl
like ink dipped into
water,
watches and rings.


nine.
alive for just fifty
minutes a day.
alive every moment
our eyes meet.


one.
two is still a
primary number,
a boy and this girl.