Stars From North Manitou
Slender driftwood femur
stabs the sand, marks our spot
small rotating claim
just out of reach
lapping notes played delicato,
hushed windward stage bathed
in blazing molten honey
sweet on halting tongues
throats burning with pleas
cast like flat stones
that dance away and slice
the waves,
drawing beads of cobalt
blood
that gather overhead.
Words, only words to the
spider
already hard at work at
the forked pinnacle of driftwood
thrust high into the band
of prey orbiting above the beach
tacking an elegant array
of spot welds
wielding slender batons in
concert
rendering a precise constellation,
the only mantle of stars
that matter to her.
By morning she’s gone
bare driftwood marker
casting a long shadow
toward South Manitou
and you, still asleep in
a fold of dune beneath
the stars concealed in
mornings runny yolk.
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