Margaret

16

McCrae

“I wish

I heard the horses, when you came
you held me together. I was only scorch stained raw.

I don’t know when skies quite remember
when we were lost together under the
sun bitten azure that stretched for unrelenting
miles miles miles miles miles
when shadows ceased to exist from my eye’s religion— but tell me
why
you decided to

come to me
when I was soaked from head to toe in
a scarlet that roses and all other things I might call ‘red’
failed to paint yesterday (and scores before)
and a ashen dirt black that filled up my insides
like the sea of soot that rolls beneath my calloused feet
suddenly surged and poured into my every:

tatter and tear
patchwork and scarwork
bite under my lips and in whatsomeonecalls a soul
again again again again again
And Here
You Are
when I had no voice or pious hymn
I ride behind you as we tread sand-washed walls
Hoofstep on Footstep on Heartstep
to silent shattered fort for
nightfall and the rain to spill

—Water revives the Rose of Jericho
in a clumsy wide stretch of a resurrected “morning”
from a crumbled grey tousle of yesterday (and scores before)
to flourished pluming flush
beneath the glazed still brook

it’s a riveting baptism
fingering, trailing the crystalline mirrors
from earth dusted soles
to ivory spine on wet pebbles
of
“Won’t hurt you”s
“Just remember”s
“To live”s

i’m torn i’m held
his hands. I reach. There.
“I’ll see you’re let be.”
I am Here.

we could stay here.”