heaven reflected
face to face

molten with light
and the heat of all living things
evening gulls
gathering, scattering, chatter-sing
lifted marionette wings

caught in the sway
resting in the rock

fly, fly away, fly away

when the sun rises
i try to blink it off me

your new love,
my new love
and all the old ones too

if i want to live the right way
i can't lie the light away

commune, o lovers!
follow the stars!
your manna is not yet redeemed!

stand guard, lovers!
your sweet contraband
sets tired souls to envy!

her head is thrown back in laughter
and the moment stops

i have to look at her,
at the scene,
because we are placed in just such a way
that it could be painted
in strokes that destroy the secret

not of the words,
but the showing of our teeth

i have to look at her,
at the scene,
from the corner of the room in order
to see it
hovering between us

her laughter and mine meeting in the air
to blend, to dissolve
a new color, a secret

when autumn laid her first frost down
she did it early in the mornings
fields of newsprint
breaking stories

i could warm two pale hands
right there
right where the wires cross

how nice

i could still know
who was the wall
and who was the ivy

a color i've never seen before
talks to me about my
problems with men

two steps ahead of me
so i let him lead
let him tell me everything i know

let him face me with a truth
stark as a steeple
leftover from days when believers
flocked in droves to high places

and i thought
maybe we can only be worth
what we're willing to give away

maybe our deaths and our debts
lie latent
until the final tally

maybe i'll always have
problems with men
and no matter what i do
they'll never have anything
to do with Jesus

a color i've never seen before
talks to me about how
i'm the problem
and i laugh
and i try
again

follow your will
just like an arrow
straight and fast away

follow a lie
like a silk ribbon
floating down

follow your soul
through the valley, the mire
cross your heart and carry your weight
be a train and run early

one for each deep voice
one for every remark, snide, in passing
one for each neck craned, speaking down

the furnace is fed.

one for each space taken up
one for every conversation commandeered
one for each "sure about that?"

"yes."
a round in the chamber

one for each man unaccustomed
to solid-footed women
armed with nothing less than
surety.

a palm up and open
to the sky

the glass lip
of a wicked bottle

wheels that turn
toward spring

small things, small things
such small things

a surprise packed
into a pack of royals
held knightly between two long fingers,

funny how we both picked up the habit
when the bottom dropped out.

but he's always been balanced
even, even
used to find rhythms
tapped nightly into the back of my held hand

i still feel the pulse
like it could still be springtime
like he might still smile at the thought
of me and God in the same room

like the way he hears things
in his head
i wonder if my voice
was one of them