her clothes hung off of her like a silk scarf draped over a grand piano
the room wreaked with damp light and mice scurried behind the walls
her shoes sat by the door, two leather saddles, sore from the trail.
i put my hat on the chair and took the pot of coffee from the table
poured her a cup and she lit a cigarette,
her cheeks casting shadows over sunken eyes,
her nose sharp and bright.
she sat in her nest, red breast bare above the thatch, and sang hard long notes, which came from somewhere she had forgotten. id lay beside her, dirt from the cuff of my pants rolled to her sheets and we placed shadows on the wall which danced as sacred and innocent as children in their dreams.
fear, the excitement of scared open hearts.
somewhere outside the sun rose and trees grew taller.