Demyan

when he comes
will you wait for
me

when you fight
(as we know you will)
will you tell him

No
Not yet, not without
her

unknown days of southern
rain with baseball bits of
frozen sky-melt, and the
prairies are sprung with
yucca;
spiral crème waves of
yucca

that beat ceaselessly
against the oddly un
dulating sky

You will always be
young, the old woman
said when i was.
So says The Sun.  And
that is both your blessing
and your curse.

cowboys have driven the
wild-eyed bulls
(some big as a car)
to pasture this side.  at
sunset, their neon green
ear-tags top the yucca sea and
smiling i think of you
smiling as you read this.

but you are no tyrant and
this is not Diabolique
we love not each other
we love only
You
and you love neither of
Us
enough to wait

so when he comes,
go
with him, darling

go with him

we will be here
(both of us)
when you get
back

©s rogers 051212