Walking Blues

woke up this morning with my shoes gaping at me like open graves

the tapping of rain on the roof made a rhythm I could almost feel

this isn’t walking weather and my feet need to move

restless for no good reason that bivalve in my chest keeps opening

a mussel gluing down its good foot so it can rock in the current

I want to go where the river goes to the sky or its best mirrors

which have the blues too in at least three different ways

all of which call to me in the melisma of a mirage

I want the horizon to stop receding I want forests to reclaim the fields

I want a woman whose eyes are as dark as the earth