Archive | January 2014

She Takes Us

No good comes of it,
and ensorcelled,
our mouths grow full.

Color went
with the sun,
and we grow

dry and brittle
as weeds,
shaken, drifting wind.

A slow progress
of ice
takes us unawares.

Sky speaks snow
we beat back
from the door,

but grow yet colder
in the blood
where you run.

And we let her
take us —
fiery faces that recede

into the crackling
of boots on snow.
Each of us an arrow,

poorly aimed.
Still,
I would submit

and suffer
your friendship,
if you could bear up

under the weight —
this mean secret
of my emptiness —

footprints
crossing
footprints

astride the icy hill.
Take it all
in every taken time.

Kick the compass
down the day
to dreaming

then map
the road back
toward home.

Exit Sign

He went to the girl club.
And I killed the calico mouse.
My head blurry
with leaving
without leaving.
Go tell him,
the cold moon on the snow.
Dry,
I never knew
he would need so much blood.
Turn it toward the river.
Running lights reflected
in the guardrail.
And it’s a hard right turn,
or it’s into the drink.