Was your hair this long when we met?
I wonder about such a black sky.

Gypsy goat call, sequence, coins and horns.
Such a mixture of primal desserts
from chocolate shavings to gold pieces
dipped in boysenberry.

Your hair was long when we met.
This black sky was the color
of your eyes looking at your skin
as you grabbed the dry-hair

roots mangled around your fingers.
You yanked up the mesquite and
all the men jumped with touches of fire.

They say your breasts were outlined in the sand;
a piece of your dark hair grew out of the desert floor.

12/23/2005

Posted on 12/24/2005
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