Tuesday, March 23, 2010

megan is in the hills
that follow me out to the east
flowing force of earth
swimming up and around rock and river
they're the arc of your back
and the rivulet of your spine
under a waxing moonlight
i can only feel the comfort of your calves

the hills are something boiling
something tumbling beneath the skin
and oh my flaming head against the window of the greyhound
a holy circle of frost around my bowing head
i was praying for something beautiful to happen

the way back west
soft earth and moon replaced
a painful solar gaze and a stretch of dead field
it was the morning's first invasive light
grown into the size of a week
and it was foreshadowing to me even then

No comments: