I folded you into a blue paper
crane and flew your herald
from my turret of stars.
I gathered you in tangled
yarn, wove an indictment
that snared us both,
caught us crossing
the haunted fork
of Crazy Woman Creek,
a tributary that carries
memory like thunderheads
to the moon side of the rim,
where the colors that ruined us,
silver and bay, ran through
our houses like ponies.
