The Rosy Sky

The sky tumbles, cloud-line cracks
in the rosy horizon, peeling off
flushed pieces of heaven, sending
petals with the arc of the sky
in their veins cascading, cascading.

A Distant Valentine

The petals settle on my back and ears,
like rain, landing on my face
with soft touches, the brief brushing
like a whisper, like the full, rounded
tones of an an "I love you,"
colored like the flush of first love,
unexpected as a reminder, a love
you've kept inside so long as to forget.
And so the love collects around, like snow.

They fall in the arc of the sky,
tumbling over me in freefall -- over
the horizon, only in a brush.
They coat the bottom of the lake scarlet.
they're tissues for a weeping idol,
they're flowers for the dead.
The petals dissolve into koi
over the fountain -- and into
the mouths of the twin gods,
who whisper their love endlessly.

So I am sure: The sky is vast enough
That all our "I Love Yous" might somehow reach.