Body

your body once,
I think,
was lean,
and hot as horse’s muscle.
I am certain of the way you moved,
your breasts like extrusions of fire.

today I saw you sitting in the sprinklers
at dawn,
the yellow light invading
your flabby peignoir.
the water on your gray face
filled the canyons and coulees,

and laved the skin red, foal-new.

I could tell then
you were pretty once,
with a sharp little nose and
eyes like
two dark little jockeys,

the taste of your skin
like the smell
of wet cedar.