if we could...

split dark night
heavy weight
supernova.

sing musical notes
orchestrated breath
zenith.

spin whirling dervish
dance stillness
ascend.

lunar eclipse

palmers' palms catch fountain words
from praying lips, but like water
can only drip, trickle, escape

until the moon, eclipsed
emerged again and into
parched hands, poured light

silver water, mirror, rippling

blessed prayer, cool

lake.

summer

We ate the sun.  Sprinkled it with jasmine and red, Alabama dirt. Moss of my father's oak tree.

We drank desert stars and full moons. Our thirst wouldn't quench, so we drank all night, our toes buried in cool sand.

We crowned our dark heads with golden wheat: Illinois, Missouri, Nebraska woven tight. Midwestern sprites in summer shorts and tan-lined sandals.

We wrote poems, lying in freshly cut grass. Mine, by a finger tracing your back.  You preferred pen and a bare arm.

We broke noses, fingers, and baby toes. Twisted anything that could twist. Tore ligaments galore. Threw backs out before we could even drive.  We were wild, dirty and reckless for living. 

pieces

I carried you up the mountain's path,
Your absence, the ever present burden,
Silent companion with a deadly grip.

But where the earth grazed the sky,
Our fingers unfurled.

Up here,  memory's gravity wouldn't hold.
And when the wind beckoned, I let you go.