She moved in a cloud world 
down the curved staircase
into the pre-dawn hours

I had been sleeping
on a bench beside the stairs
waiting 
I had been riding a white horse 
for miles
under a crescent moon

She took my hand
led me to the living room
blue silk gown and matching robe,
her thin shoulders curled 
slightly forward

We sat quietly
looking out at the dark
where the bones of her garden lay
The deer  she whispered
I leaned in 

Her long-fingered hands held mine 
I saw her elegant blue veins
the morphine patches on her arms
The deer she said
a moon-colored doe stepped out 
of her marrow, her pain 

I saw it glow there, haloed
inside the night,
travel past the wintering garden
and enter a stand of white pine