Saturday, June 11, 2011

Fog-Rumpled Evening



Fog-Rumpled Evening

Silvery dust glints through a coulee,
mingles with sunset.  Ghosts shuffle blind.
We drink at night wells.
Small birds run... screech,
lead us far from nests.

Paper boats in bottles.

A black bear poses
on her haunches
with a torn box
of chocolate Easter eggs.

Blame is a cheap room.

It means so much, lover,
how you tie our wrists together
with vanilla-white ribbons
to keep us from losing our trail.

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