In The Big Country Dreams Stay Alive

In the dark swarming the past sits on a log,

Slips into a puddle I kick a pebble into

An owl lifts the shadow from my back.

Car lights along the lake drive

X-ray my legs. We’re closed

Says the voice of the road

And all the cab doors, elevator gates

And revolving hotel entrances swing silence

On all the times I’ve been through them,

Tagging after you or leaving you behind.

These are fairly young woods of stunted oak

Already wind bent and rooted in damp sand.

Blueberries and sumac above the twelve foot

Pond full of murky clumps, turtles

And currents of deafening blue bands

That years and years of weed wave through.

Last summer floated our patched raft past midnight

Sails when at least my arms hung mosquito bait

And yours draped through the dripping sky

Motioning toward some far-off catch

Some unexpected bird song or thought

Just beyond my finger almost reaching your toe.

These nights, frog cries, dirges from the swamp

Animate our dark rooms, call out our names

As tiny stars pop in the sky. Your eyelids,

The undersides of beach shells, close.

Now ready for the nights of wolf chase

Or the meeting with the brother you never knew.