Now, we take the moon
into the middle of our brains
so we look like roadside stray cats
We'll say unbelievable things
to each other in the early morning—
our blue coming up from our roots,
Witness the wet dead snake,
its long hexagonal pattern weaved
around its body like a code for creation,
I like the lady horses best,
how they make it all look easy,
like running 40 miles per hour
Say tomorrow doesn't come.
Say the moon becomes an icy pit.
Say the sweet-gum tree is petrified.
Careful of what I carry
in my head and in my hollow,
I've been a long time worried
All these great barns out here in the outskirts,
black creosote boards knee-deep in the bluegrass.
No shoes and a glossy
red helmet, I rode
on the back of my dad's
When Eve walked among
the animals and named them—
nightingale, redshouldered hawk,