A Heart Like This
Behind the white hot burn
bright love, blinding me to
the bruises behind my eyes,
a heart like this, that slithers
rather than flips, puddling
around me, a silk dress, slipped
from my shoulders at the end
of a long, sad-song day.
In a pool, in my mind,
soft wings of water wrapped
around me like salvation, pure
as polar runoff, and twice as blue,
eyes fixed on a sky the size
of Texas, tightly laced by cedars
soaring above the ridge,
watching two bald eagles
circling around spirals of circles,
rising on Earth's warm exhalations,
celebrating the completion
of this year's nest.
Arms spread wide, watching
the eagles gliding, it seems
blue is the color of this afternoon,
of the veins in my wrists,
of his eyes, the color
reflected by the crystal stream
that flows beneath the bridge,
where she once lay,
when cottonwood tufts played,
on beams of honeyed light,
and over which, with gentle step
she crossed once more today.
In loving memory of Katja, most beautiful kitty in the world,
whose joy, love, and friendship I was blessed with
for more than 15 years.
(c) 2017, by Hannah Six
