The heretics of boundaries

Cry to me in the moon's shadow 

cats cradled in the abysmal snow
bowing to the fir and pine —
the ruby and diamond necklaces 
of your memories
hold nothing but sorrow 
amongst the decaying
steadfast stone. 

Blackened ammonia 
and mulberry wine
puncture the heart with poignancy — 
calling to Horned Owl and Coyote Man
with abruptions and grace. 

Snake tongued mother, 
do not dare to hurtle yourself
toward my forest of love —

cry to me in the moon's shadow, 
memories squashed
in the abysmal snow.