Second born, of
premature heft and a hundred red,
in the air and on the bed, maps where
Air where they
flexing doubled, God-red.
Extensions of the digits,
A day so white,
what did it matter
I wanted a little red.
Too red meant we were losing and losing
Lost too, we were meaning and
I knew you when you were
in your father's mind, and,
a child's desk, red.
Saddled and bridled Asian horse, two
high, jade and gold, nostrils flared red.
Fabricate with a bright thread running through
A small thing to save me, written
in my body, and read there.