Sestina

The thrushes stayed over, my darling valentine
and often woke to shake off the cold we abandon
and pecked at fallen oranges in the pale light
of Sunday morning. Their wings had tiny sinews
where Pleiades' former salt would snake
its breath out into the air, then crawl back

to its lonesome galaxy. Dew on the dog's back
caught the glow of their eyes like a new valentine
in the window. I wanted to move like a snake
through their language, wanted them to abandon
syllables even if they were the last vowel in their sinews.
I touched their shadows before the morning light,

but it was not cheating on you, it was only to travel light
before the next weekend or the next tattoo on my back.
I am tired but they seemed more alive under the oak's sinews
and sometimes claws and fingers folded up into valentines
so we could dance around the patio with wild abandon
into the cockeyed glance of the neighbor's dog, its chain a snake

coiling around its master's absent shadow. A garden snake
found home in our movements, then swept off into the twilight
with its arching song. But what about the way I abandon
our new found rhythm for a sweeter saucier throwback?
You may always confess as my wildest devotee, Valentino,
but you never stop drinking from his former sinews.

Branches sway dark circles into their florid sinews,
sinews that arch and dance with any talk of the snake
who came home with you last winter. Her lips made of valentines
caught in a wintry storm, my lips flaking off in the oven light
when you wouldn't be home for dinner. Why don't you call me back
later? These ships won't sail forever. I told them. Best abandon

the older shells for better homes. They danced, they abandoned
our leafy fountain for wilder waters. Shimmered off the sinews
into unyielding whiteness. Run off into the weekend, take back
every breath I held for you last winter. Undulating spine, snake
off the old reruns to find myself untouched by moonlight.
Did you hold our spot? Do you remember the valentines

we forgot to deliver? I renamed their unseen borders, Valentino,
pulled my clothes off in the rain, called you back into the storm light
our arms and legs peaking now, arms and legs singing Anaconda