Blue broken bluer by the tint of windshield and sunglasses a river of trees, leaves waving hands along the parkway.
Outside this cockpit of cooled air and road hum sun sharpens the day, our hope for a clear bridge as we cross wide water,
the next state a steep bank ahead. We move fast, beating our own time and age as generations unpeel caring and caretaking
in the same bed which is two beds pushed together in the room where we’ll sleep, a tight crack between us.
August
Horses come to the railing. Your hand reaches to trace white fur ruffled along a nose, my hand smooths
a mane, you stroke an ear, our hands fondle muted light on broad shoulders, sun-silk as warm on our necks
as our breath when we call each other to the fence, our skill with the familiar boundary, how we gather the long
gallop in each other. The horses turn from us to race across grass crushed to dust, through an open gate.
Grace Mattern's poetry and short fiction have been published in numerous literary journals and magazines, including Calyx, Prairie Schooner, The Sun, Poet Lore, Cider Press Review and Yankee. She has received fellowships from the New Hampshire State Council on the Arts and Vermont Studio Center and has published two books of poetry, Fever of Unknown Origin (Oyster River Press, 2002) and The Truth About Death (Turning Point Books, 2012), which received the Readers' Choice NH Literary Award for Outstanding Book of Poetry.