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Thursday, May 23, 2024

Waiting to Wading

Your limbs look like 

Pottery shards to me. 

Held softly in the silence 

As we watch the terracotta scenes unfold 

Careening into a world where hieroglyphs contained multitudes

Language-building pyramids bejeweled with jade 

Like eyes 

My back turned to you, your mind turned to me.

That night, pretending to be flying machines

Watching for the first time as the night 

Unfurled its dark eyebrows 

And unpinned its dark tresses before us, 

Umbrella clasped in summer remission 

September cradling us on a plane made for two challengers

 

Pulling the starry neckline of the sky to pocket just a few stars. 

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Always standing on some sort of precipice, always neutral ground 

In each other’s doorways 

Knowing that if we 

Broke the seams with a wire cutter, we’d end up

In each other’s dreams 

Finding ground where there is air, finding air where there shouldn’t be ground

Painting, etching

Until we recount, again, our own history. 



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