29 Readings | 1 Rating

6.10

Breathe in, sun-dusted hour,

chirps and clicks of a world that precedes us.

Ancient sun, eternal moon. If I only knew

I could meet you, warm bodies under the pines.

The heaviness of flesh, heavenly transport.

How could I finally touch what I’ve conceived?

Light flickers through branch-slats, imprisoning

all our old ways over the soft-needled ground.

Breathe out as bars pin us down, finally.

Gold tongue telling me what I think I know,

the music I pull from you, light from bone.

Jays and woodpeckers angling through

warm woods of my making. The poems

aren’t as good now, now that I almost know

your gold eye giving you away from afar.

Still apart, we stare at the same cold moon.


Posted 06/10/20
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