Love at the end.

“the two pulses stayed, mixed up, so much brighter …”

A Couple In

 —– —–I am one of the two who all those years

did not find much to repel the mixing of our pulses

 —–

They stayed not as one firm rhythm

 —– —– —– but together in fits

like happily neglected green shooting upwards one more time

 —– —– —–from abandoned railroad ties

or one more birthing crow’s private spasms as her mate flies

 —– —–the two pulses stayed, mixed up, so much brighter

 —–

than the dot shadow

 —–brushing the flowers

 —– So busily the bee gets lost all by itself and we both really missed that sometimes

 —–

 —– – ———It could also die on the flowers

 —– – ———I’ve seen it do that in our garden

 —–

 —– (almost like it chooses where to do it?)

 —It takes it all back  — I’ve heard it do that

The buzzing horrific for its a step-down then a step-down weakness

 —– —- —– ——Goodbye on one living blue or living yellow

 —–

 —– —–or maybe it just ends in the air,

 —– —–and falls on whatever is there,

 —– —–on a color it used to see as Now I Eat.

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Jenny Gillespie Mason’s work has been published in Front Porch, Borderlands, The Missouri Review, and Ruminate. She runs a record label, Native Cat Recordings.