Blue I

Blue, I
I was the first.

Eyes sun-wide her tattered eyelashes blink-blazed against dandelion-white fur, She
blew the snow out through cooling Autumn, my friends, She
caught the sun in moving mirrors, my friends, She
shared the secrets sleeping.

We hunted green that day. Irish cups of clovers, stored periwinkle, flared tree-trunk moss, She
knew where magic hid, She
shared like children did, We
hunted green that day, yet We
kept framing it in blue-fields like clouds and lake-water reflections
of clouds, She
laughed at my eyes changing seasons. I didn’t see it.

I was the first.

She is a temple bared. Was. Somewhere in the green trunks, and green for whatever reason shown, She
is a temple known. Was. Sandy, buttressed, old-stone worn walking flights of polished steps, She
is a church-of-self. This. I cannot put well, She
houses heavens and hells, She
carries them like sticks and bells on her back between pews and forgiven-words, She
wants them off her back, wants them on Shore, like driftwood, reflected cirrus clouds between. She
gathered green between us, She
crippled men with thought.

I was the first.

Writes with bones, She
does. Builds with stones, She
does. Graves with cowrie-shells, She
does. We
hunted green that day between grays and bark-shape plays with words, We
talked of lines in earth. We
brought up broken teeth wedged in roots and stuck in cellar doors and painted red, We
buried our Dead
Between
Us.

I was the first.