He loves her, you know.
You do know. She doesn’t.
Does that pale your pretty face? Does it crack your porcelain smile?
Can you breathe through the wings and firesilk feathers
of the phoenix hovering above you, night and day, and in between?
Did you lose hope?
Of course not. It’s written there. On her arm. Plain as blue daylight,
because your love for him is a catalyst, as well as a toxin.
He smiles, reflecting her movements in his bowstring lips
and all you can think of
is that arrow.
waterfalls on stone ridges
as a breeze sighs through the gaps in your long, laced fingers
stuttering, because the only way to describe the method of how
that the autumn leaves are clenching in your throat
is that there are no words for the absence of quiet speech.
Skirts spin about your legs, twirl, catch on a question
but you can’t remember how to raise your hand
and pull away the answer.
Watch the fleet of ships pass through a sea of cards
What happened to your dream when it was deferred, Mr. Hughes?
Do you want to know a secret? Yes, you do.
Those were their dreams, not yours. So why is he the one exploding?
Rudy’s dusty lips and Liesel’s surviving tears
the elven pendant, the majestic sword
blood of the flower and mist-sewn memories of the man in black.
One thing triggers one step forward to another
so what would happen if all you did was close your green eyes
and wait to fall?
He loves her, you know. Who are you to deny him that?
He loves you, too. But from the other side of the stone wall, he says.
Tu as serenite. Snow falling down.