She, is Sirius under cloud
riding to the field of rushes
in a birch canoe. From time
to time she dips in a finger
and shivers with cold water
shock. Her breath sweeps
in a gust past winter rosehip
lips that mouth fossil kisses.

Her blue eyes are pocked
with dreams of kites, turnstones
and her deep loves. With a heart
as light as a feather she lifts
herself up over rocks and cliffs.
The crowd waves as she flies
to the sun but only the cold bed
is imprinted with her passing.

1 thought on “Passage

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