one day when we were more or less strangers

it’s amazing what bodies can accomplish
in the dark, you said, we both
reading into the dawn, our heads
shooting up
like jackrabbits, red eyes
wary in the halflight. we try
to pass it off, just another
comment on the stars,
not on the arms
& thighs & skin of us,
how the clocks of us
feel the pull of tides
in their salty shadows.
we, gentler without the overhead.
we, in awe of how the sun grows
each day like we weren’t even watching.
we, quiet in the roar of the universe.

 

capture no.2

Don’t hide
behind the language,

hesays,
& means it:

sculpt your words
into the grumble

of trains
that rail in

sympathetic
overdrive

beside a silentrunning
river, gray

Decemberdepths
like black

ink
on a wet page

& verses punc-
tuated

with the mourning
warningwhistle

as she slows
on the outskirts

of where yesterday
meets tomorrow.

That crossroads
is all there is.

on the edge of something

another summer song
whose shadow i
pick off my skin, peel
from cavern walls
where the thunder rests and
trace down
into nothingness,
that i won’t sing out loud
but hum inside my head, over
and over,
over and over
repeating until i get the words
right, exactly and
at angles from the rest,
naked and distant
from the nesting clouds of thought
with blurred edges who
refuse to come clean
and declare themselves;
the teasing lullaby
i can’t quite make out
to quiet whatever pain
there was, the screaming now
bare echoes.