Speaking for us all

Will you stay with us
for just a little longer?
the boy with his hands
on her cheeks as
she turns out the light.



spring-fed and flower walls
of unlikely purple blooms
lead the eyes up
to an explosion
of sunflowers,
teetering arches over
the black pond
where bodies float
toward one another
or move apart
in all of their nakedness,
resting on stones
that echo the millennia
from when they rolled
off the high parts of the valley
to the low,
and the gravel bed
where toes grab
pebbles like a child,
steam rising
to meet the falling darkness
that covers each shadowed face
with welcome surrender
and also a longing –

so close together,
so far apart
under the very same


Tonight no glittering fountains
of blue and pink –
too many fires,

and the land is parched.
Perhaps independence
is something a bit

quieter, like watching
a full orange moon
rise over the jagged lines

of rocky cliffs,
or the soft realization
that you may

have missed
the moonrise altogether
as you knelt

on the floor in the closet,
boxing the clothes
of someone you loved.