On the banks of the Bosque you show me Qi Gong.
You pose for me like a crane or a snake,
arms raised, palms out, breath.
My body copies.
I focus
on a single clump of grass,
white reeds as my mantra.
We come together in breath, touch lips
and breathe together, one stance to the world.
You tell me your sword
rests on the opposite edge
of the continent
and I imagine you naked,
here on the banks of the Rio Grande,
legs apart, arms outstretched
your silver sword glinting in the sunlight.