Trio

Under the Eyes

Under the eyes of sentinel pines,

I affix my own to the north, 

searching for a memory.

I’m reminded of yours,

where quivering foliage

meets endless sky.

A floating canvas

no edges 

nor form.

Like the dark expanse behind my heavy eyelids.

I stumbled backwards,

dragging my feet

Your scent lingers on my clothes

I want you on my skin

In the cracks of my lips,

on the tips of my fingers,

filling the gaps in my armor.

I make up for the lacking

I try to fill the gap

crushed sage/open palm

burnt cedar/tired feet

sun-baked juniper berries/my wanting mouth.

As the Sun Slips

As the sun slips behind the mountains later each day,

as the flowers expose themselves once again,

as the canopies of trees come alive with birdsong,

I think of you.

Fresh off a plane in the summertime,

overwhelmed by the licorice-like scent of fennel in your hometown.

Floating through the Belvedere Palace,

overwhelmed by the detail within a Kiss.

Decorated with your fathers rendition,

your ink-stained skin melts gently into my own,

the last snow of alpine spring

fading into a hungry earth.

The very mouth that swallowed the sea as a child,

with words that flow like the Loire,

somehow found me in the quiet rain

and I haven’t been the same since.

To Travel The Road

To travel the road that puts you further away,

feels like forcing the thin needle of a compass to the south.