he hears most nights:
Darrell takes apart
his legos, piece
on his back, airplanes
In the blue barn I practice undressing myself.
The mare stares as I pinch a button—recalling,
I imagine my self under warm water, kissing a woman
until I'm airless, until each button—undone.
Focus on the mare's breath hitting the cold. Focus on her wild eyes--
not the Earth-feeling
of nakedness-- the screaming desire to trampoline
out of body, twist my nipples into stones
to skip across the river.