Tuesday, March 7, 2017

Movement Song

I have studied the tight curls on the back of your neck  
moving away from me
beyond anger or failure
your face in the evening schools of longing
through mornings of wish and ripen
we were always saying goodbye
in the blood in the bone over coffee
before dashing for elevators going
in opposite directions
without goodbyes.

Do not remember me as a bridge nor a roof  
as the maker of legends
nor as a trap
door to that world
where black and white clericals
hang on the edge of beauty in five o'clock elevators  
twitching their shoulders to avoid other flesh  
and now
there is someone to speak for them  
moving away from me into tomorrows  
morning of wish and ripen
your goodbye is a promise of lightning  
in the last angels hand
unwelcome and warning
the sands have run out against us  
we were rewarded by journeys
away from each other
into desire
into mornings alone
where excuse and endurance mingle  
conceiving decision.
Do not remember me
as disaster
nor as the keeper of secrets
I am a fellow rider in the cattle cars
watching
you move slowly out of my bed  
saying we cannot waste time
only ourselves.

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