Pennsylvania Birdlime

He drifts to sleep, hand
down my pants
to the man at my back
I drift

Campfire smell, Varvatos cologne
He’s catching eastern pheromones.
The Susquehanna scalping weeds
at his feet.

I came quickly
His mouth cupped my tit
drinking Big Sky nourishment. Pollen
smuggled home past the Great Divide
the west in me still alive, a fledgling.

Our Bitterroot was green once
wings, flintlocks
over white wheat
the light sparked gold
Our horizon was an access road.

Landing in O’Hare, sparrows shook
in a glass terminal
captured in the rafters
airplanes soaring overhead.
But they were shaking in song, contented.

In bed, we cling together like a child has died
I’ll never love anything as I did.
The cat kneads darkness behind my knees,
filling the gully between dreams
Our backs turn –
the locks and keys

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