Open mouth in spilling,
small coos and loo-loos and laas
taking the backyard by storm,

tendrils from lungs of dry ice,
giving the tiniest howls and yowls,
songs that turn into hymns
with gods encroaching,

windy hands reaching
for undulating
cries under the evergreen;

I never met my girl-lover’s words
until she succumbed
stiff as a rose
in autumn.