Swapping swigs from the bottle
and stories like veterans
I think: Age decorates us
with the evidence of our obsessions.
And a dangerously scarred heart
betrays a particular fervor.
Leaving your home,
the Starrett Mansion glitters down
across the dark street at three in the morning.
George Starrett built a dome of ruby glass
to shoot scarlet beams each season's sun
onto the likeness of his bride.
It is a crimson, human imitation
of the diamond starshine
blazing that night, on you.