The unwelding of us was reverberating
and time was heat even then. Though
I feel its waves only now—a stretching
of full air, an enchanted scraping
of flimsy tied veins, these boats
poorly moored to moving docks
never moving water.
Then electricity, inflaming suddenly,
and there is a terrific prying apart.
These days, I can sit with the snow ice
spearing down and empty myself of it.
When at least parts pour back in, though,
and I smell the skin you wore in summer
when a wind blows,
restlessness speaks volumes.
Mar 27, 2012
Mar 27, 2012 at 8:14 PM UTC
The unwelding of us was reverberating
and time was heat even then. Though
I feel its waves only now—a stretching
of full air, an enchanted scraping
of flimsy tied veins, these boats
poorly moored to moving docks
never moving water.
Then electricity, inflaming suddenly,
and there is a terrific prying apart.
These days, I can sit with the snow ice
spearing down and empty myself of it.
When at least parts pour back in, though,
and I smell the skin you wore in summer
when a wind blows,
restlessness speaks volumes.
