Countdown ignored—
tucked beneath a stranger’s quilt,
like two-for-one toasted loaves
from the mountain bakery.
We stormed the daunting future
with the resolve of a fat calico cat
on her fifteenth birthday.
Your mask, your phone,
glowing, poised for battle—
until the staggered,
slurried purr of my breathing
heralded the end.
No champagne, no confetti—
only pillow.
— ©Rick Baldwin
I release them. Fledglings
pushed from the nest,
thin-skinned and chirping.
Constantly on guard for
the cat and coyote.
Skipping from tall grass
to bush until there is
enough strength to fly
and feed alone.
They build their
nests in hidden hearts
of those who discover them
and sing sweet songs
to the ears that hear.
Before the rains,
I live in your skeleton,
pressed beneath the crust
of your face.
I breathe the dust
of powdered heartbeats
beneath your chipped breasts,
dry as bone.
The spit from your lips
searing, mineral
burns my throat raw.
I enter you
as a serpent burrows
into desert sand,
tongue splitting heat,
a parched orgasm
rattling through your
box of sticks,
nothing catching,
nothing taking flame.
Within me, it swims—
this light-borne goldfish
defined by a translucent orb,
its curve—a lie of limits
against the infinite ocean.
Thoughts descend to the deep,
silent, sinking, rusted anchor,
rooting themselves near
the pink coral castle.
Small fry swirl and scatter
sucking algae,
sifting muck,
oblivious to the sublime:
the goldfish,
weightless,
floating
to the surface
with gasping mouth.
Gray bones, unyielding
against the shifting winds
of a century’s dance,
stand tall,
supporting the relic.
Dusty tobacco—
its earthy scent
mingles with manure,
sweat, soil, and corn,
the essence deeply embedded
in wood and beam.
Rodent, bird, snake, spider,
a silent assembly, disturb
the cattle’s communion
in peat and refuge,
a sanctuary for small creatures
and hidden lovers,
their secrets suspended,
in the shadows of these walls.
Life is a forever
burning fire—
its flames cradle you,
a fleeting flicker.
Briefly you dance,
illuminating the void,
before spiraling outward,
a luminous arc,
into quiet extinguishment.
— © Rick Baldwin