Longing (Tuscany, 2009) |
Winter and the few remaining birds
squat on wires stretched
from pole to pole
alongside the coastline:
dark ink blotches
unmoving.
Dusk comes hard
in this borderland
between longing and forgetting
and we speed beyond
the sea-shack shanties,
and worn signposts,
leaving behind
a coastline
and an odd remembrance
of what we cannot become.
Here between sky and sea
what we've known
is gradually erased.
The familiar becomes
fuzzy, distant
until what is bird
and what is sky
cannot be known.
The only certainty, you say,
is remix: caught as we are
on this awful road to becoming
like some damn mobius strip
destined to travel again and again
and I watch
as you turn your shoulder
into the next curve
so that your body
becomes the car,
becomes my very breath,
catching.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.