For Will

I.

At the precise moment
an airplane slices the moon
in half, we witness the splitting satellite.
We go off trails in flannel and jeans.
Together, we are enough to end
each other’s isolation—
be an inspiration, wake up
entangled in a hidden love affair.
In Brisbane, carmine clouds
cross a dark sapphire sky.
The City of Stars illuminates faces.
We hide in coyote dens. Rest
in tree cliffs overseeing the Pacific.
Greet bison in the park. We ride
on the silent wingspan of a great-horned owl,
sing their songs in smoke, laugh
with ghosts. In the still of the night, 
while walking the streets with you,
I kick a pine cone, and we laugh as I bleed 
all the way back to your den. 
I don’t know
the blood on my sandal 
will outlive you.

II.

Your departure rests between that Jag-stang
guitar and the drumkit you would practice on for hours.
We would play in your garage, and I’d pluck
ditties like scabs to revel in the sight of blood.
We would wrestle, drink Four Lokos, waste time
being wasted, and just smile at life passing by.
Have you been reduced to memory,
or elevated to visit me only in my dreams?

III.

It’s been a while since I heard your voice,
walked with you under owls in trees.
As the city-lit clouds overlook late night
streets, we would take those long walks
off trails, smoke packs of cigarettes, drive
to the San Bruno mountains to chase owls.
We’d lay awake. Flying. Until,
your body was found near Lake Solitude
by Inspiration Point.
Murmurs sailed away from Grand Teton.

IV.

A total eclipse.
Petals perish
in the night.
A son departs
from his mother,
travels east,
then back west.
My love,
you arrived
in ashes.