THE WOODS

She pushed
my wheelchair
into the woods
Before I could
tuck myself under
the heavy blanket
of a metaphysical subject—
a midsummer night descended
suddenly upon us
and we slipped
into bodies of moss and leaf,
braided by the thin strands of the rain.
Her hair,
a labyrinth of orange light,
her eyes alert like skittish mares
the turn of her voice
bright autumn
I, with her in my arms...
became at once
a line of smoke
where sky meets sea
over the worlds
curved blue lip
and one coherent piece
of cosmic clay
feeling wanted for the first time
not in spite of my body
but because of it
every one of my cells opening
into gardens of motion and silence.

Then like a smiling skull
cut out of tissue paper
and strung in a row of prayer flags
for the time when the dead
laugh with the living
our day floated thru the night...