We were cloaked in the awning of night or early morning.
Through the headboard there's a flicker of light and light warning.
Sophie's on the bunk overhead reading Mary Oliver
While I lay still in my bed.
That's when I see you there.
Fawn doe, light snow.
Make me feel alive,
Make me believe that all my selves align.
Fawn, doe, light snow.
Spots on brown of white
Make me believe that it is all alright.
Your soft face pressed to the wilt,
First spring sunrise
Standing low on quivering stilts.
In attempting to keep you to stay
I am raising no alarm.
It is just us two alone.
Then I feel a sigh of wind, your raising eyes
The rolling fog that lets you hide
And I can hear the rustling as you go.
Oh, go slow.
Fawn, doe, light snow.
Make me feel alive.
Make me believe that I don't have to die.
Fawn, doe, light snow.
Spots on brown of white
Make me believe that there's a God sometimes.
The ring around your mother's heart
Grows saccharine then falls apart
And I can hear the rustling as you go.
You camouflaged or clearly seen
And nameless in the in-between
And I can hear the rustling as you go.
The firing of rifles off
The echo hits you hard enough
And I can hear the rustling as you go.
A soft and skittish self inside
Shines golden, opal, chrysolite
And I can feel the rustling as you go.
Oh, go slow.
A mob of voices harmonize
And tell me that you're not alive
But I can feel the rustling as you go.
