This Morning

The sky fell down and bumped her knees against the horizon
The blood pooled just under her skin
And spilled
Transforming the deep blue night
Into a violently hued morning

I skewed my mirrors up up toward her
Ignoring the too-bright headlights
Driving too close behind me
I upturned my eyes
I aimed myself at her shins

But she slipped out from behind the hills
Howling in pain
And set the clouds on fire
Before I could reach her
Blue night to blue day

I lowered my eyes and my mirrors
Raised an unfriendly finger to
The headlights behind me
And drove on.

Return.

The sunrise was a messy spill.
I hadn’t cried for you
Until I saw the colors
Running across the sky:
Red Gold Orange

If I were a tumor,
Looking for a home in you,
Searching for the most
Interesting neighborhoods,
I would move into your brain, too.

You wrote me once, long ago
That your eyes were saffron and
Your hair the colors of
The sunrise.

And that morning I saw you.
The sky bled
All of those colors.
I broke.

I reread your letters
As I drove, staring at
The gold spilling
Into rivers,

Bouncing off the roads and
Gleaming from flooded
Fields and wetlands.

I turned up the stereo
To mix the clanging
Dissonance of the sunrise
With white stripes, pixies and
And drum beats.

Your tidily written words
Smashed up against the
Panes of my eyes.
“I carry you in my pocket.”

It was raining inside my car:
Raining colors.
I turned up my palm
To catch your light
Like a firefly.

But the colors bled and they
Spread and they stained the
Sky, road, water,
My palm and
My eyes:
Saffron.