Trip East

I am from:
earth.
salmon earth meeting salmon sky streaks on a hill walk
toes sloshing in sheepskin boots
lovers parting to meet old lovers,
hearts hurting.
The wind blew hard and some hats began to fly away.
Down below, the the barked to the people above.




A year ago we tromped over stiff grasses iced with winter.
We tiptoed across the creek and
I shuddered recalling secrets I used to show you.
Later, when we had warmed our toes,
when we had eaten sweet potatoes
and said goodnight to your dying stepdad,
I crawled into your bed and you painted me like you used to.
I asked if I was still beautiful and you said yes.

This year again, we sloshed through sunset-ice and melting snow,
your beast dog bounding ahead.
I doubted myself as you showed me the ease of your creation,
as you slipped into the nonsense that holds me at bay.
This year we walked with my lover and his old lover.
I felt alone and alive
and when we climbed the fire tower the wind lioned its way into
many parts of me.

We came down in the dark.
My toes stayed cold and wet while I drove home alone,
letting the radio merge into my crying.
This year I took refuge in my cobbled family,
the warmth of a feisty sister in law.
Now I am flying back over the mountains,
to the place where I didn't know you but I dreamed of you,
the place that you didn't come because it would quell your fire
with its spongy earth and pouring rain.