Because of you, I see the tender exposure
of a stranger’s long black toes
in cheap rubber sandals and I weep.
I cry at the vulnerability of an orange smoke fox
crossing the road at night.
At the death throes of a squirrel struck by a car
epileptic, then still.
Your beauty is a complication I did not desire,
yet your existence is a wish whispered softly within.
I bleed at random, then profusely, without cease,
soaking pants and sheets, in the streets
like a wounded thing that won’t die.
And somehow, I blame you.
Autumn leaves dance like lapping flames in the road behind
a car’s speed, tail lights burning red. It reminds me of
your strokes of energy glowing green
and yellow with power and love,
delicate, controlled, and full.