In the west now, a searing sunset
illumines the imprint of your breast on mine.
There have you traveled on purpose without me,
no forwarding address, no departing line.
Is this the glimmer for which you betrayed me?
Can you remember the slant of our sky?
Walking as straight as your tall boots will let you,
shed shards of moonrise, a husked lullaby.
I have been cauterized, left in the shadows,
longing for glimpses of walnuts and gorse.
If I sing softly, will dragonflies nestle me,
grant me sweet amnesty from this remorse?
I don a crown of mountaintops, leap heavily
into the evening sea, still do not drown.
Published in Cider Press Review, Volume 17, Issue 3.
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