After W.S. Merwin
I see that I will be lying
in a patch of shriveled Juniper berries
all skin and seed
their life has fled like dead stars
their juice glimmers elsewhere
their juice glimmers in me
as I remember, piney and sweet
desert pearls embedded in molar
in a patch of death
I taste sugar
I taste the earth, Pinon bark, the sun’s breath,
shards of clay and Cholla skeleton
I am the only one
to have laid beside them
all wood and bone
their quills have latched to coyote legs
like my lost hair hangs off
the neck of my beloved
as though it belongs there
tucked in wilted berry earth
the fallen flicker feather
amber stem, speckled
I see that I will be laying
it against abalone and deer figurines
surrounded by books and low-wax candles
I see that it has fled a life
a bird life, a life made of sky
the way I have never seen it
and my calloused hands can hardly feel it
so along the inside of my wrist
I sweep the silken limb
which has fled a flying thing
as though it was given
but even the sky cannot be kept