The Pursuit

I chase the black hills
Of memory
On a horse with steel shoes
Sparking stone like flint
Seeking the unsearchable.

The wind squawks like
A bird of prey
Making smooth these
Ragged stones.

With heavy eyelids
The sky is ready to weep
Lightening charging the air
Ready to slash
Like sabers
Like the teeth of God.

Hers was the kiss
The ghost of a kiss
The spur to the withers
Of my horse
The knife in my ribs
The slice
Between flesh and soul.

I will not find her here.
She is past knowing.
But that means nothing
To the pursuit
To the wild
Endless chase
From these hills
Onto the high desert
To the sea.