Sta.sh
I fell onto the wind of your note,
the current whipped the sun
into shoots and pedicels,
and then fanned a leaf.
I could see the diluent
light passing
in the deep pupil of night that listened,
the swaying shadows of body
and foliage rippling.
I pirouetted around the moon
with a pair of double vision wings,
dipped into the bay
and back again
to slide upon the magnolia
of a leaning tree;
and then fell back onto the
staccato, and silence
as you sighed
and I prayed that I'm never left
on a roof
with the memory of you,
as your song plays like a ghost
in a wind that only half lifts
in reluctance.
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