The lines that held them disintegrate like
the veins of a doomed tree. He has grown
a new skin—his life house is dense, its breath
summer fog among brambles. He used
to be deep in her, bones protruding from
her fingers, her soul strumming his elbow.
When her mouth opened, his throat spoke.
Their hearts joined. Lovers, they said yes; yes.
Now they are lost in the autumn forest. A buck,
head high as a sentry’s, antlers white as the moon
king’s crown, waits before the leaf blaze.
Rain pours past their window. She escapes
his twilight to wander bare mountains.
