Show me how you lift the sky

carrying your red;

show me how you wake and swell

and climb

into the billows where we meet.

 

Show me your crimson veins

over the rooftops and trees and the mountains deferred,

and I will show you how they stand in the cherry-dipped corners of their yards,

reaching high to touch.

 

See how they hold their children shoulder-high, and smile;

listen to their dogs bark and their horses whinny.

 

See how some carry the weight of the day in their eyes,

holding

holding on—

as they focus and stare

and grow lighter as you soar.

 

Show me your perfect arch into the shadows,

and I will stand in the corner of the upstairs patio

and get my picture taken with you over my shoulder

while I’m laughing,

 

because that’s something we’ve all done.