One called "Peña Blanca."
I don't do all the traveling, I do just for the program.
So this was-- this is dated Thanksgiving time.
"Our little games when my voice rasped
from the back of my throat, eye teeth
bared, how you always cringe.
They have turned on us, put us out of the mood for love
or play.
Holiday time, driving with another couple to a high lake,
stunned by the glow of a mountain fire.
We were going to taste winter and pines.
On the dock, you think of small birds
awakened by timber cracks like rifle fire.
You side with the girl and won't explore.
Then we turn on each other, male against female,
vying for a pool beneath giant red shadows.
In discord, we watched white-winged doves return
behind a veil of smoke.
Ash figments of your fear of death,
or seraph flickering in the moonlit ripples of the lake."