embers

smoke just kept rising
from it. never sparking,
never fully flaring. I wondered
if the damp air held the
coals in cool comfort. I
tried to conjure the last
time we shared this space:
soles up on rounded rock, 
toes pointing to the sky,
stars rising, the fire
ebbing. I remember your face 
appear and vanish in a kind of 
stop motion pantomime, each 
expression separated by dark
then golden flickers. Pauses
brought night sounds. These small
interruptions were welcome. We
were testing our compatibility in
those silences. Could we be us, 
without willing the connection into
being? An us without forcing our way past
night sounds. At some point you said
that the mosquitoes must have
forgotten about us. I scratched
my neck and wasn't so sure. 
There will always be mosquitoes.

epic

stand up
stare down
step out
just
like when you opened
their book
their jar
their box
and released
their words
their poison
their power.
the diffused truth
stilled tongues
stalled spaces
sat asses on stools
and you
stretched 
and
stretched
and
stretched
your handhold 
on a comet.
your planted heels,
your leaned back 
and pitch forward,
your allowance of
oxygen meet flame,
you watched 
head consume tail,
and you
stretched
and
stretched
and 
stretched
the clay 
of your core,
not man made,
of mother earth
and her hope 
resided
in your grip.