To Be Crossed

A small herd
Of red cows gather
To watch me
When I walk away from
Your gentle apology.

Watching them
Watch me cry
The space between us
Is very empty
And clean.

I purely burn
The way yesterday
Morning’s heifer
Bellowed for a white bull
Across the road.

Both kicked dirt
Over their own backs,
Stamped earth,
Threw back
Huge heads.

His rusted barbs,
Her buzzing wire,
Asphalt incomprehensible
To desire,
But there, nonetheless.

2013