"but there have been nights
with the endings of fingers and i
smell the fire you lit across the tracks
across the vows
and though you've long gone
into a country whose hills
i cannot see
in my mind's eye
I can still see the beckoning glance
lit by a match strike...
hear the sound of you in the mountain shower
as I wrote the secret note
and there on a glass between us
crescent scimitar kiss of breath
for my bordertown heart
as the train of warning screamed east
and the land swallowed you like rain"
silver emulsion oilgraph 7x5
