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The ancient scent of your soul
lingers on the hem of my dress
and on my hands from this earthen climb.
Even the locks of my hair curl
around the sacred conversation
of the musky dampness
of this kind of paradise.

Here we live
in memories stolen
from the pocket of a widow's coat,
from another life,
where you slip shoes
from my tired feet
at the end of a long day
and assess the damages
with so much kindness
I've come back to find you again.

In the geography of the impossible
we've found each other wanting nothing more
than comfort and the ease that comes
just healing the wounds of another day.

Come even closer than you dare
and exhale into my open mouth.
Here the green moss will rub free
from the walls of this old place
and you will see my name
etched into the stones
near the river
and into the place inside yourself
that reflects ripples
of absolute home.

The Earth Between Us

It is September
and the heat of the day
turns my heart racing
like the blades of a frantic fan
trying to disburse the remnants
of a summer that never was.

Red leaves fall outside my windows
onto the dirt of the driveway
like droplets of old blood,
crimson with a death I love.

I can't take my eyes off the body
decaying slowly with the light.

I've waited through stagnant years
to unleash the fury of my life.
The switch has been flipped
and the spark ignites moment after moment.

On, off.
On, off.
On, off,
blinking,
then holding
steady.

For one moment at a time
we hold each others' gaze
in the dark house of the truth
and listen to the leaves drop
whispering to the earth between us.

In the Pursuit

It is September just before the first frost.
Here I am in the overgrown garden

and I am not the farmer.
I am located on the edge

of the tangled summer.
You will find me to the left

of the stonewall
and where the trees have learned

to translate silence,
where fog and desire blur the edges

of all the rules of nature.
For all this heat

we have burned to make one another glow,
to gaze at sun setting into purples,

and to let earth cool around us
until we are lifted into the arms of stars.

We travel in native time and heal our wounds
with magic, secret herbs, and prayers

that sooth us with the blessings of our mothers.

Be lightning. Be skin and blood to touch.
Be an endless breath. Be invisible and primal stones

anchoring us to these happy days of new autumn.
Let the sky take us to where we harvest

only the bright beauty
of our absolute joy.