Rustling
ascending cathedral hilloverlooking a great Missouririver, the sun has setand bridge lights blurry
in the mist of evening, bourbongin, Pinot Gris, varietalssuited for this climate, clothesembracing their bodies closely
stepping into branches and brambles along the cliff's edgewhere sandals attracttiny burs sticky as sweat
rustlers stalking open saloonscasing joints for piano duelswhere desirable hombresdrink only cask strength
the five spot an empty barto share a round beforethey aim from hips and headuphill to their several beds
staggering shadows climb a verandawhere stemware traces ringsspattering surfaces between barefoot legs curving helices arch to seat
hushed laughs in painted maskspouring accidental oathsfrom overflowing casksfingering crystal notes
fragrant as crushed hydrangeas dowsing the disquiet; howling dogslonely and close, too familiarmaws and lips, slaps leave eyes shimmering
the murmur of chickens sleeping askewdreaming of what they know or thought they knew mornings with wine spilledreal and portentous, rippling with gnats
recalling these visions on the shadowless mound of Cahokian virgins et al.clinging to hopes they're climbingto heights of summer, not fall.