Our Daily Bread

Movement molds me
a hazel iris in a socket
surrounded by the skin
of water irrigating
its armored sediment

This stream migrating
toward the river, kited
leaves reeling downward
cottonwood diagonally
skyscraper confetti
from the roof of trees
a parade of Autumn’s
Summer victory

Stones stacked in unison
emerge from the silt
an unnatural balance
strong as the hands
that formed these sentinels
of gravitational defiance

I’m a carousel princess
at the end of your gaze
you, paying homage to me
before the fish you hooked
I watch you bow in prayer
give thanks for the gift
of your daily bread    

You glance up, smile
rolling the fishing line
knowing I won’t partake
of its delicate flesh
but will turn my head
write of it instead
write of your skilled
removal of hook
your compassionate
appreciation for Life

Suddenly the sun trips
falls deep into the forest
Our last evening together
a panic rises inside me
you read it across my face
set your basket on the bank
position yourself behind me
pull me against you in silence

I will miss the metronome
of your heart beneath
your flanneled music
your woodsy scent …

But we don’t say it, we say
nothing, that is our magic
our shield against meaning  
and previous experience  

We need no worded promise
no guarantee I’ll soon return
no man-made definitions  
to label what we’ve found

You pull me up, draw me tightly  
into your mouth, exchange breath
entwine my hair like fishing line
give thanks for what we have

I’m a WWII photograph, the nurse
bent perfectly backwards in a kiss –
I’m every woman a man has Loved
I’m every princess that ever lived.

‘Aho’

~

Image taken at Cherokee Indian Reservation
private property