Nights in the Wonder Valley

Monday, July 15, 2019
            *
 
Honeysuckle offers its bedroom
for bad choices. Rain swallows ache.
We lean against the wind, not touching. 
 
            *
 
This song is missing a tooth, fugitives
on back roads. Is she shredding the cello? 
Music on the radio, radiant as a 40-watt bulb. 
 
            *
 
I stare at your face all evening. Firelight
collects in the crater below your eye
as I trade my wonder for a mouthful of air. 
 
            *
 
If I shiver, then the moon shivers.
If I whisper, then the moon listens.
If I quiver, the moon is no more.
 
            *
 
Every answer is given back: five hours 
of heavy rain, the clock without hands,
and the sound of the river, flooding over. 
 
            *
 
Heat lightning, we cower under 
the junipers. You tell me a secret that floats
and stings the mind I left across the field.
 
            *
 
Like a child       forgive-me-not
Use an X        to mark the spot
Where I slept tonight       I forgot
 
            *
 
Sweat dissolves in the river
and every flood given is a gift
in this July, where we are howling and alive.
 
            *
 
After midnight, I’m in danger. Done wrong
doing wrong. Honeysuckle hangs 
heady in the air, desire uncontrollable.   
 
            *
 
Scared of the thrill, I open my jacket
to the chill. Shameless laughter
astonishes my lips in the cold water.  
 
            *
 
Brand me with your mouth—your teeth
leave little moons on my neck. Oh shiver.
Oh shadow. Touch me without your hands. 
 
            *
 
Delirious, I tremble. The radio
never stops playing its low whirring. 
The clock breaks across the floor.
 
            *
 
The way you laugh makes me laugh
Blood rushing down          tight squeeze
cool breeze      now you've got the chills
 
            *
 
Kill a silverfish with bare hands. Drink out
of an ice-cold glass. Snap a bed straight in half. 
Throw a party. Whip the table into laughter.    
 
            *
 
Hidden in every night: memory of hands
that wait in the gloom, sharpen
knives, create the shape of shadows.
 
            *
 
No dreams of teeth. No dreams of maps
or homes. No dreams of hands caught
at the throat. No dreams of naked swims.
 
            *
 
Accidents happen. Your tongue traces the wet acre,
wild bees. Does California exist only in dreams
Secrets drift through poppy fields.
 
            *
 
The nightingale won’t stop singing.
The mouth of the river won’t close.
Each evening, the wind overlooks us.
 
            *
 
This night, like every night before or after,
we each are alone. I unmute myself,
laugh in the dark valley. 
Monday, July 15, 2019