New Poem: In Hindsight

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In Hindsight

Where you go,
the language of never
plunges into dust.

Beneath the sun,
a blind man’s eye,
we gather up words.

I expect miracles,
but the river runs backwards –
the coyote inhales its long song.

Who walks like this
for so long the veins
dry up into forgotten wells?

The bones bleach beneath skin
and the bored moon yawns
a miserable sigh.

Who you are –
the thorns that I must walk through,
a mirage, a tiny truth.

You said it was a hawk
that passed so close to us
that day.

But I know the truth
of those hours
and what we had to find.

When decay lingers,
it is stark but honest.
A beak drops its stone.

My fingers are skinned
from digging down to you.
Now I stop.

What we saw that day –
different between us –
a vulture, a hawk.

***

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2 thoughts on “New Poem: In Hindsight

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