she called him Lucero, morning star,
snared him with sweet coffee pennies
mexican milk candy, brown bony hugs.

they met in the early aurora sun
sucked on peacock feather colored ices
sometimes giggling softly to each others eyes.

took imaginary strolls toward tomorrow
over lush afternoon pasture, under ancestral sol.
warm ginger bread…her sugar lips.

she called him Lucero, morning star
taught him the trinity of land, sea, and air.
explained the frog, the buffalo, and eagle.

told stories of golden cites, and mothers
who carried babies and machine guns on
their backs. poets who wrote in clay.

spoke in words old as the creosote
painted big lipped gods holding fire
…..naked raindance in the marigold sunshine.

would weave a smoke circle while she made
love as every cell inside him pulsated to her
heartbeat….then he re-connected him back to himself.

she called him Lucero, morning star
while she waved her palms in the water. he loved
her with the energy of a super nova.

gave up 8 of his lives for offering
to prove his faith in the forever.
believing the needlessness of time.

confessed sins and fears and dreams
guilty shame faced at the mirror, begging forgiveness
from god….because he loved her more.

nothing else mattered, eternity
now lost in the music of her endearment.
….the melodious call of his name.

she called him Lucero, morning star,
which made the sky turn upside down
let him walk among the clouds and stars.

each conviction was an opportunity for
sweet consideration. in each touch the delight
of victory permanently suspended.

and so…every breath, task and movement
was dedicated to her. she became his religion.
he loved her with the helplessness of falling confetti.

she called him Lucero, morning star,
and he became what his name was, large
and bright……..full of fire and light.

how could he not? with infinity in his hands,
pure understanding in his mind, harmony in his
heart and her whispering in his ear.

the burden of his love made him great,
he learned how to shrink the world reducing
everything until it held nothing but them two.

until finally there was only the mirror that
reflected the sound of the wind calling the memory
of his name. he had loved her like a desperate rescue.

she called him Lucero, morning star,
even after she left him. sometimes, while bathing
in the alph river, she’d think of him, pause, and smile.