The Fieldstone Review


remember that night we sat up late cracking dice with the cosmos? you were shifting – eyes resolved to study sky and star.

there in the wood i poured over you, an eclipse: black, mute, sure. disrobed and we were both vulnerable. brushed for pulse (lips, neck…). drained two vials of lavender sealing your pores. tasted ‘til the moon dropped, and you were fixed on Vega. tried to fool the dawn.

but flames fell before the cinders. and violet struck, threatening fire.

you were cold. and calm while i gave my hands to murdering rodents, pests, all i might crunch above the storm. and it came. radiant surge colour. shades of anguish. brooding whispers. our senses gone rogue.

and from the creek, coyotes catching scent. then paws, flattening moss.

and selfish for time, i gave up gathering stones. so morning came – certain, and without remorse (a sly, swift clench). and all i could, with these blind palms, is rally two salvaged stones.

and so we went out, firing craps at the gods.