Excerpt from "For Sand"
When at last
the murky red sliver
of dusk
had slipped into
unconsciousness,
I said
your body
is ocean
is ribbon
pouring out
from a pearly spool
and your pulse
is the drum
of mountain people
with copper stares
living in clay,
skin, house,
roof, all
structure and reason rooted
into solid, slick bricks
baked and callused like
the whipped side of a
stallion,
the rude whites in his eyes
exposed
clouds stretched thin like
blank stares in the grey
no
man's
land
between left and right