I dreamt of that man’s
body as a falling animal,
draped in heavy cloth.
I knew, somewhere,
that by reaching him I could
be young, enough to live.
Between us were mountains,
thickets dotted
with lavender and rosehip.
In the hillside, churches
carved into earth so that
even the spires fell
below the tallest grass,
each with ornate windows
drowned in shadow.
I would call out to him,
this man of sharp bone, but
the sound arrived too late,
finding only the air
that held his shape, dropping
away with the sun.