RECKONING
Adobe dusk lapping drenched purple,
my skin is indigo-edged along white cotton cloth.
Lemon zest rising moon,
she is full and trembling.
A sing-along hum in the doorway,
on the wooden-slat skeleton of the back porch,
on the hip-rounded edges of the hacienda.
My lungs sputter in her promenade
of desert blend and magicism.
I exhale.
Inhale.
Sigh.
Twice she flushes full above me,
Summer night sojourns returned.
By her third arrival,
I re-teach myself to breath
until my lungs are glider pilots,
until the ossified clench and catch-all carry of my spine tinkles
and returns from bone twist to natural brocade.
Whistling: Libre, poeta.
La luz, bendecida.
As the moon mirrors,
you, too,
are living light.
2006 Dora E. McQuaid
The Harwood Museum
Taos, NM
ALL PEACE. DORA
