No Relation

In the plum light
I roll
your age, and my youth, around in my mouth as a pip
and spit it out
on bare earth, ignite
an old fire, a flame
sheets and sheets
of old noise and dried logs,
carried across the land
on backs bowed.

In the plum light
I recall
your eyes, on my eyes, wild as a horse on two legs
before canter
across the fields, by night,
by the river, rushing,
smoke upon smoke
carries and sinks in the valley
where we sit alone,
in our best forms.

In the plum light
I sit
you're above, I'm below, in separate times,
worlds apart
where wounds start to bite,
as if a harsh wind, crashing,
waves over waves
hitting shells not prepared to venture,
out into the wilds - we'd find each other
as we were.