a waterfall in brightness, or a negative funnel—
how you loved without reckoning.
a torn black flag flutters across your breast,
mingles with the ashes blown back in a breeze.
oh torrent, the ravenous waters below.
blue fade.
still of a white sash, lifting.
and light traveled faster when we were young.
and the future was a cloud formation in the sky.
death is a red songbird hovering over that gorge—
it flies abruptly into the fall’s knowing spray.
the road reaches up to meet us.
oh quickly, quickly, carry me home!
published in Diode
Robin Reagler 