memories of love:

as we spoke on the back porch

the dog barked

at an apricot butterfly

and my heart

felt radioactive

with dangerous affection.

at night we snuggled

in a dark blue room

as time slowed,

dressed like a

japanese printmaker.

in january wind

we slept effortlessly

like winter night

snow birds.

as morning approached

distant voices were wind-soft

gliding over

a solitary branch

of noisy pigeons.

reaching to kiss you,

death

was a ghost

in heaven.

10/25/2017

�/�Z�uxLŘ6u9%�`