Matthew Schmitz
solar
the bird
cuts down to the
smooth skin of the water
next to I-90 and past the
windshield
of our
car -- radio
hums the day to sleep but
while the dimmed world lays down inside
the black
we rise
toward the radiance with
our blindness stripped away --
solitude does not compare to
being
alone
here with you -- and
as the apexed moon
and Orion straddle the sky
you breathe
my name
and roll into
me -- although the branches'
fingers push together trying
to make
night, with
the moon bright and
our eyes so used to each
other, the dark seems like day and
you shine