once i told you “the only thing i know for certain
is that everything dies. everything ends” but
you said “no the only thing that is really
true is that everything changes”.
we go away to a desert with squat plants
+ deer with strange faces + pitch a tent near its river.
we are peering into the mouth of a new climate.
you tilt your face upward and i know
i am in love. with yellow skies’ darkening
and armadillos rolling toward the water
with the moons in our fingernails and the sage
in our bed. with too-old wine slowly turning
the tongue black. outside i am asleep but i can see
your shape on the grass, falling in the night.
