Del Laguna

Anytime soon a
step or two from where we are
the wind speaking an ancient dialect
as it would be revealed
the message hidden among those steel-plate
                              chrysanthemums I sent you
              like several tons of rusty scrap metal
                                                falling over the edge of my brain
the same way the sky fell over itself
              tripped up by a cloud or a guitar string
& I swore sleepwalkers were lining up
                              to take pot-shots at bricks of rain
the horses spooked by what the eucalyptus didn’t say
dark pacific swamp mirrors shattered in the sun
a last breath a tunnel of light
                              a trapdoor in the surf
              what you held & I let go of
where midnight cracks the tide
& bottles full of sand