of leaf-pile, back where on your tall wooden deck you outlined a life, drew a frame in the night filled with stars moving, i still hold the feeling of having come unmoored, of having arrived, suddenly, at the end of my tether. later, pretending to sleep, curled with you like an egg in a nest while you snored your music of autumnal dreaming, i talked myself down from my barren treetop. life left dissolving on the dry ground. i gave flesh to our fancy, my evergreen hair, leafy eyes, moon pupils, but you fell asleep alone wrapped around me, another woman tied to your finger with a dusty string. something vanished from my middle. i was an opposite egg, empty, a clean, slender branch, stretching from everywhere into winter. i let go a last leaf, felt it drop at my most naked. i carefully kept breathing. outside, the night sky was rearranging. cold stars divided, trickling down the sky, glint of a faraway fire on a dark window. the chickens were asleep in their quiet coop, each one tucked into herself like a secret wish.
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