Riding Out to Coyote Wall

Where the frayed nerves sang
on skeins of fishy matter

we slung our harps
and rode like Valkyries in stiletto heels

threading the ink blot hills,
papering them over with our dreaming.

Home was where we slept,
love was what we decided

arms entangled, necks asunder,
blood red wine our witness,

until the days ran out below us
and the trees stippled the sky
with our sovereign seconds of brilliance.

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