Inn

in a wayside inn

three strangers playing poker

till the blizzard’s past

Euphoria

near the casita

an exaltation of larks—

birdsong stuns the air

taking the redeye

from L.A. to Biloxi—

a long slow descent

trotting summer paths

lusty stud longs for snowdrifts

to test his mettle

the belfry pigeons

free of priestly conventions

cooing holy notes

fighting words—

they trample their vows

underfoot

Following a hunch,

he mutters a quick prayer—

a new way opens.

the bounce in his step

as he thinks of holding her

in their bed tonight

in the tired hotel

reflecting on her failures—

slash of the razor

riversong

the sacred spirits

murmuring