Midnight Boats

The roses were sleeping, their red petals snoring beneath midnight winds.

The winds rose from the sand that chafed at our bodies.

Our bodies were two boats drifting away from each other across rivers that foamed like untamed mares in the wind.

I wish I were a mare, my black mane fanning out behind me as I run through the grass, allowing the blades to caress my bare toes.

I try not to trample the snoring roses, as the midnight winds bear me farther and farther from the river where I once paddled the raft of your body.

The raft was too light for two people, but who knows if it could have borne the weight of two horses, or a horse and a man, or a man and woman who sometimes feels like a horse?