I came to you as if from a far country The night was not quite in your eyes but the evening smoke and the roses of your skin met in purple shadows
I came through the vague veiled streets toward some clarity or hunger You were my fire in the moth-light my confessor
You danced the stars blind under the witching moon I crawled in your darkness like the tapping beetle Our mouths met
Dawn in the desert is a million gold butterflies- I lived there once among broken stones husks of bodies a tale of death and death and death and women turned to salt under stubborn hummocks of black cloth
We grow old like the cracking clay of forgotten rivers Soon no one will remember our voices or the glancing light of our tremulous tremors
Was it the wind I came on lipping your waters combing the sunlight scarves across your throat
So often now we are tired and old women I once knew speak harshly behind the curtain and the mud of the riverbank squelches under their feet
I came through bulrushes over moon-glazed bayous and our bodies became snake-dancing cranes feathery cries
We cannot love each other forever except as the stars do all flame and nothingness
Our skins will grow worn and frail as papyrus leaves locust wings May the burden of pain bring lightness
We lie down to take flight like the desert sand under the scour of wind
I came like a bird of prey out of the sun's eye to whirl you talon in talon down the roller coaster sky
Michael Jennings was born in the French Quarter of New Orleans and grew up in Iran. He graduated from the University of Pennsylvania and was a Fellow in Creative Writing at Syracuse University. In addition to his poetry, he is an internationally recognized breeder of Siberian huskies.
Librarian note: There is more than one author in the Goodreads database with this name.