A vector field is complete if its flow curves exist for all time.
—R. W. Sharpe
High in the mountains
blue flags bloom along
the cold creek that crosses
a summer pasture
on the diagonal,
the longest vector,
infinite on both ends.
This iris is the wild blue
I’ve been lost in all my life.
The soft sabers of the leaves
bend away as I bare
its elegant stem. Should I?
Then the greens spring back,
on guard again.
Don’t let me die until the blooms do.
Don’t let me die until I see
this very blue in a newborn’s eyes.
Don’t let me die
while I’m still in love.
Yes, I could go on and on
nourishing the irises
with my ashes,
and they would take me up,
and repeat after me.
High in the mountains
blue flags bloom along
the dark creek that crosses
a summer pasture
on the diagonal,
the longest vector,
infinite on both ends.