There are voices, distinct:
how can I possibly trust
my sanity when every word
is yours? Come near me
speckled, sparkling like
blankets of snow on a radiant
night; winter's jewels spread
out like a party. Follow me
and my great crippled heart,
my sad, broken mare, my injured
falcon. There is a cliff, smooth
as tar, eaten away by salt and wind.
Here we'll sit awhile and listen,
maybe you can touch me. The body
remembers a bodies touch, releases,
regains it, releases, regains it.
At some point love feeds upon itself
and is left with nothing but the stars.