raising the blind with a woman still in his head
he watched the rings intersect on the pond
with a woman a warmth in his veins
he opened the sash and leaned out to hear
the gurgle of blackbirds and gutters
the last thing she said and the way that she said it
slipped through the pines as the wind
in the reds of the crowns and the blacks of the trunks
he saw her as sweet contradiction
with an ache in his chest he couldn't explain
he moved through the day's shining stones
the call of the train he knew it by heart
and it shook as it rolled through his bones
