Fall displaces our sun
Hidden behind a sterile vale
I wait in ignorance

Wolves chase me
Tear me through the open
Long drawn out dashes of red
Streaks on the cheeks of the river
She soaks in the end of a prayer
A dried ball of cotton dyed into other
Ways of being        And matter

The stone Buddha smiles
Red ink in my palms with thanks
An offering made in prostate
    pose like the subject to the question
Answered with distilled teeth
Unclentched the tongue soft
Under the lips of a kiss in the winter's day

To be given        Not had
This thanks of dubious nature

Red tape outlines the past

Red like the ink in your pleading hands

Red like the cotton in your mouth

Red like the beginning of your life

It comes swiftly into her eyes
Against the blue and green
    of our days in thought

The candle wax
    red too
Holds the negative space
Between the pages

A promise written to home

"My child is born today"