Blue to Red

1 December 2014

As you sleep, I am watching you drawn into the unsteady
Blur of a Shaker rocker, ear pressed against a teal welt

Gessoed onto your naked shoulder. In your drifting-off
Horse rider’s hands, so without borders they could be

A cartographer’s, the bow of a homemade violin aches
To map out scale. If they were awake, your fingers would

Unstring the staves of night, your left eye a bruised pianissimo
My right forearm a warm crescendo. Your lips, parting, tip

Up in profile, fear dividing my face in two: first a fighter
Next a bull charging a ranch gate the wind grates open.

Your hinges unhinge me while, outside, a magpie whistles
Into cottonwoods cobalt with breeze and, inside, mirrored

In me, you exist in dream, your face turning full. Mars
A readymade riding into the corral of my ribs. There

Is no other weather, no greater lightning strike to
Cleanse us as singly, our unsaddled horses fording

Vast floodlit night-spaces etched, we have come to feel
By the sharp stream of quietude we each have had to

Wade through to drink from. Once the eclipse starts gnawing
The moon outside inward, I sit across from you, thirsty

Inspired, and cold, slipping on your faded, dawn-bloodied shirt.

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