She tasted the stars beneath your skin
savoured where you came from –
your shoulders were rivers of salmon
your knee caps – roads with no stop lights
and one general store
where the owner weighed in the season’s fresh kills.
She saw the mountains in your eyes
the one shaped like the face of a man.
You took her there one day –
to that mountain.
She still can’t believe you left that place for her.
But you did.
Now she sees how the stars have clouded over
how the mountains in your eyes
and split in two.