the sounds she made last night
still echo in the ether.
she told me she’d been waiting on me
for the last two winters.
her call distracted my healing.
her voice broke my breathing.
I wonder if she could feel me
getting lost in her city.
I’ve been hunting down a moment
that could make my sadness filling.
I threw my map in the fire
and prayed my way to black hair and green eyes.
I knocked on a red door and offered wine
for the kind of redemption
that can only be found
in familiar neighborhoods
and in the arch of her spine.
the lovedrunk cowgirl 