07/12/2020
Moonfaced lover
On the frontier.
She shone brightly,
revealing me
in sharp relief.
Was this wild brush
home all along?
Did the winding
Missouri river
attach us wholly?
I cannot help but
yelp along with dingos.
I cannot help but join
a song older than every
stone construction.
What end-dance
for an era slipping
through like sand and butter.
Was it merely a mirage
for our foolish, blinded eyes?
Our youth gave
sight to romance,
allowing truth
atop a peak.
Yet peaks descend to valleys—
descend to rubble and to dirt.