Bait
On her late drive
over the pass, Martha eats
figs from a blue speckled
bowl, the fragrance
and weight as Grand
mother’s craftsman lit
up with candles
after waves
Of thunder had
snapped each light
off. On the road
a young boy
nurses his tabby
and looks lost.
Freeze
Upside
down
through mirrors
you hold that
pose with broken
gold through
birch
maple
Sequoia.
Boughs develop
your hair in
halo. I set the
timer and
run to join you. But
you appear in the frame
alone. Smiling and
complete.
Uncompromised.
El Golpe Avisa 