Michigan Robert Kenegy authors poem for my monotype, Wyoming #9

Wyoming Series # 9
By Robert Kenagy
Inspired by Wyoming Series #9 by Patricia Aaron

I mapped a constellation across our night,
a shape between our borders. I wanted order.
Your silver tongue was a sleeping bag,
Russian sage, the watermark mountain
beyond the river where the cutthroat live.
And my dumb lips were a shy, wild dog.
In one history, Coyote and Pale Mountain
married and built a home near the cottonwoods.
In another, Coyote made a fortune drilling crude oil,
bought a small plot of land in the high plains,
and never spoke again. Now go on. Get.
Forgive me.
I confuse withdrawal and control. Better to play
the patterns of overlapping touch. Better to fall down alive.

What exists is astonishing,
and not leaving hydrangeas on your front steps was a mistake.
Nothing else though.