pulse

—for Geof

Dangerous roofs
dance above the street
buck
and writhe
shingles rolling
with the effort to fling off
ice and cold.

See?
the whole world is up
in arms.

He sings a song to the icicles: red
pepper mangosteen lavender roux.

He sings to charm
the shiny things (diamonds
and bubbles). His song
opens the door as steam as a small
tornado spinning.

The rooflines relax
stretching
like long cats. The icicles unclench.

Later: when they sleep it is
for warmth
parallel
ones
butt to groin his toes
gripping her heel so
they do not spin off into
darkness.

oyster aspen curry rust

(he whispers to her)

blood should be
the color of eyes

(she whispers back)


She listens with her finger
tip to pulse beneath his
ear:

iris maple bird’s eye pear we are dust
in        the corners        sharp
with sun     the ice            lies
puddled
and        the windows
no longer        rattle
with cold

the song she felt.


Flung ceiling-ward
skyward

with both hands

moss
                bay
                          arrowroot
                                                pink

the songs as charms as magics as voice
settle and drift
to the small spaces of the house.

She sweeps into the corners

what she did not expect
but
any way

beautiful