Taken By

The parts of me that feel missing
get blown down the street: the silk hand,
the amber look, the deep green kissing
that keeps me rooted to my feet.

In these kind of badlands one
could go extinct: thirsting for honey
or milk, an apparition of the sun,
warm at night and gone with a blink.

The transient wind in throes
awakens the lake: the bejeweled
waves blinding me as I throw
out my line, waiting for it to take.