Mailing Evidence to the Prosecutors
Every leaf in a storm points in the same direction.
The story of an affair is the story of our life.
The lover's body always tilts toward earth.
Lovers sometimes hide things under their pillows.
During our first year, we saved maps of Bali,
The Boundary Waters, and the Maltese lowlands.
We didn't know enough to move into a house.
We slept out in the barley fields night after night,
Watching the stars go over the edge of the world.
We know that lovers travel to distant countries,
Sometimes before they meet. We have agreed
We knew each other a hundred years ago.
When we had mailed the evidence to the prosecutors
Three times, they understood that we were destined
For prison. When judges saw us coming, they clapped.
The two of us were blind, but we did drive our horses
Over the endless prairie. You judges, tell me
If you've ever seen wagons that traveled so far.