Night Wind

You've only known me
with my body slain and
curled deep into soft spaces
dreaming of billowing sails
bike rides, hair flying,
along dawn-pink ocean swells.

You've only seen me with my brain
in under-drive, thoughts short-circuited.

A turtle could outpace me now.

Soil from the grave dropping
to reveal your translucence,
you speak to me of days
we wished we would have had together,
days when our bodies were unbreakable,
minds yet unseared by loss.

I reach out my hand, console air,
tell you we'll talk when our ashes
both ride the wind.




Pris Campbell
©2010

Published Wild Goose Review, Spring 2012

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