My knees have graved
deep the upended belly
of the dirt.  There are empty
parts that can not be filled.
You are not a puzzle piece
but I will make it up to you
under the dead sky.

Hold me until I can
see you.  Whet your knives
on these long bones.
I don’t mind your lies as long
as I can taste the blood
of your mouth and parse
the oleander hidden deep
in the velvet of your gown.

If you walk backwards
sweeping a branch you can
erase the drag marks. If you
have access to divine
intervention and a cup
you can raise a toast.

It bothers you that
you can not see yourself
in me; I have turned loose
the fauna of my heart.
Goat-skinned and salt bound
I am rooted in the soft hand
of nightshade.  The ghost’s
still lick the rime from my crown.
The gold will not polish
into mirrors no matter
whose tongue whispers.

This blood we call home,
the thorns impaling, the harrowing
abandonment. The words
ring until hollow or hallowed.
I have tied the veins and worn
the rings but spines harden
and beauty is only a fraudulent
strength. I will forget as fast as I can.

.

Where is the blood the sky holds;
the papery wind that refuses ink.

What angels will the river find when it is lost?

I wear wings now, but I remember
the night of your hair, the moon
color of my fingers.

The gold is deliberate.

.

I want the blue flowers pinched from the root,
the proximity of your fingers to the
honesty of death, press them to my eyes
an offering of sky with the heaviness of water,
a blood to stain your innocence.

I want to know desire is not a false god

.

with a bottle of whiskey
and a rattle snake
I am ready to face
the sun
obliterating the dawn
into another blue sky.
I slide into my coat of crows
and fill my pockets with sand
so the past will always weigh on me.
Since I vacated immortality
or maybe I was evicted
the stigmata doesn’t itch and
the future isn’t so imperative.
But I still walk this land where the clouds
are too distant to even be a promise and the jack
rabbit steals what shade there is.

Night will come bringing dreams
of the memory of rain
of the ocean that was ours
of the salvation I lost.

.