Between us are plains

And the cascade of rain

Like scissor blades cutting

Across the prairie, dividing

The time between what was

And what shall be.

Aching bellies of low broad

Clouds roiling from ancient

Grudges—the leap. The thought.

Did you dance tonight

When you realized

You have choices?

Because I did, I cantered

In the street like a fucking

Akhal-teke, all beautiful and shiny.

To be


Is the sexiest scorch from the bonfire.