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"