Your laughter lifts clouds above mountains, your lips make white lightning, and your eyes drive our proud chariot. Don t lose me in the distance. Our forever is in our voices and I want to speak to you through firestorms. I ll wear a red dress so you can see me in your naked darkness, and a parachute of dances will bring you my smile. I know white-knuckle journeys are not easy, but this one is worth a thousand safety nets.
Blue herons are a mystery.
We have not happened to each other yet. Copyright 1999 by Heather Long. All rights reserved. I m like a calico who licks her body clean, heals bleeding wounds gleaned at play in dangerous neighborhoods. I ve been dying by degrees measured on some scale calibrated in a heaven not ready to receive me.