Eucleia

Kath — 9.24.12

we rolled in fields burnt brown by cold, so strong
my skin papered with its stinging
howl — eyes narrow, tawny hair shivers —
bite — chapped parchment shaking in leather.

you are a creature
of moments, of sunshine in winter, bright gold
the way the wind glints frozen. your skin
a twisting furnace of heat, spring forward —
and this is Us; the bloodless and the wolf, stealing heat you spill
the shared hush of laughter and crunch — predators
stalking the sheeple, we speak to the edge
where adrenalin rush meets madness.

in autumn,
birds fall from blackbone branches like leaves leaving
the empty cages abandoned. I remember
your skin — cracked white, ice in the water — leaking blood dark at the crevices. hand
over hand, staining bark with lost red,
this is the space we inhabit, together:
you, cloud-borne, drinking irradiance
and the observer in a shroud of latticed shadow.