2 Stands
He walked west, harrowing the road. He was bareheaded.
Meanwhile, she sailed the lake, eating of the small of her hand.
All of it blue from out of the book.
Protector of the Dead
He was unused to the way this water moved. He was less used to the way the sun lay at the bottom of the trees. It was an envelope into which he slipped, the gray paper of the cowbird’s breast.
Then came the grind of a yellow truck’s gear, its maul up the hills, all the steak of the man inside.
She said, Takes you right out of it, doesn’t it? Takes you from it.
Yet, the anchor of her hip still hit earth. You’d not be anywhere but here, he said. You’d always be here.
She laughed and the gods of the bush agreed, shaking free the red candle of a fly.
10th Temptation
The dog was short faced into the wind, all in the edge of fences. Above, a pair of buzzard’s clocks.
Don’t misunderstand me, she said. I mean to be right.
Somewhere at the bottom of the gully, buried cables sang. Ok, he said. I see.
Reprise
They met again at a fifth of coast and river—and the rest, the stones.
