I cannot remember his age,
His untouched cheek was old by then.
The routed age swollen
In flints that were, once, heritage.
Of broken hands, holding these
Awkwardly, he said, unable to manage –
Even the minor miscarriages
Of the usually, buffered, peace:
How was it? Did it go well?
Was there enough span in your voice
When you asked them; the noise
Frittered by energy, by the blunt spell
Of the space.
The moon and matrimony, circular – happen in this bridge of a sun’s arc. Physically colliding, late in cohorts of miniscule things. But the words do not fit the circumstances. Love that should be constant, is not. It is unphysical and rows with the motion of a tide, out into the far-outstretched night .. a far-fetched galaxy far, far away, and on a tilt. It leans towards a hafen; an answer that’s a solution to us, though the noiseless expectation, held it true, always. We had discovered it, lately. We had planned it in the language of our understanding, lately. We had known it as a truth, but were unable to believe it. It sounded right and it was right. The words fit sense only. The truth fit something else resonating splendor in the scant, circulating words. The sound chopped wood makes .. taps. I tap the wooden stakes. Two laths I hold; cut short. I tap them – tap, tap. I work it into rhythm. There’s a rhythm that’s osculating somewhere in the universe and this is it’s echo-dream, echo-form. Tap, tap. Tap. Tap, tap, tap. The lath in my left hand. The lath in my right hand. Tap, tap. Under the hidden universe are stars and whorls of time, and shedding skins of birth. Tap, tap. And the duvet, heaped as a whale on a beach, holds the heavy heat of the dream under it, together. It taps the thunder and the sheath. It taps the bottom of the sunder. It taps the broken will she cries with. Her long hair. Her black brows. Her brown eyes. Her thorny breath. The saline keel of her sex, and tongue. The bark on trees flowing through rocks, dissolving into the sea. Borrowed bright sea. The borrowed night, how it’s then reflected, in the boon shine, in the manifest-making of the moon.
afullquarter 