Iceland roadtrip

 

Hulking stone shoulders,

midnight sky streaked long with azure,

waterfalls roaring to unseen end—

Everything was extending you.

 

I know some of what you’ve been through.

The shifts and the rifts,

eruptions to take townships.

What was there to do but love you,

drop to green skin and hug you.

 

I fell hard again and again—

fields of lupine, hills lit red at 11.

As we made our way, the car startled sheep,

lambs scrambling to nurse

still in the street—fruit of comfort

by grace of ewes content to just stand there

and care. Horses too loved openly,

whole fields reserved for flirting,

pair of necks swanning impossibly.

 

At night, tucked into our tent,

love had a soft brown muzzle,

and my nose was wet.

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