1,033 Readings | 2 Ratings

Human Forces


I never wanted you to show me

how tender you could be.

Booms of cargo ships at dawn,

the way you are with the world

making its way through my life

in waves. In every sound you say.

Whatever forms to your lips,

that’s what it is. Is what it’s like

to be near your words.

Your shape, shadow, name

ring out from every surface.

All the stars jittering

before a force of sound.

All the light rising within.


Venus and Jupiter nearly touched that night.

Your hand on my waist, I guided my eye

up through the telescope to where I wanted

it to go. In this way, repeating pathways,

I taught myself to love what was before me.

As the planets approached conjunction

in July’s warm and clear care, we had forgotten

how far apart they actually are.

Let me be plain: I look at you again

and again. To compare me

to a compass would not be untrue,

the tenderest of forces being drawn

wholly toward you. Every twitch and nerve.

When you’re not before me, all is fog.

I can’t remember your form or the feel

of your hands along my curve. When I see

Jupiter’s markings through the glass,

I realize how I’d doubted its reality all along.


Mists obscure our faces–all the faces

also obscured by buildings with wavy glass sides.

We coordinate our disconnection,

moving from pole to pole.

The way you walk away from me

indicates the presence of a force.

Your reflection noting my

movement or vice versa.

Hundreds of bodies crowding streets,

determined to reach destinations.

Loneliness is louder here among cars

and chatter and apparent success.

But I cast myself forward

to the place you are, and though your form

glides over the glass of my eye, I found

no sure port there where I could rest.

You are not there and cannot be

where I am like two points of water

racing down the same stream,

intimately related and apart.

Posted 07/08/15
Comments (0)