2/18/2018

​there are days I feel polluted by
concrete, destroyed by nails,
by right angles. the sea is making
a faraway sound like an injured bird.
the airports have deposited
their cargo of wheelchairs and eye sockets.
the poets these days are
cynics who’ve abandoned the
word love. they are jigsaw
puzzles with jack-fit faces.
the sky lies down upon
it all with a crushing sympathy.
at once I am running to your
face among the clouds like horses.
your blue shoulder flows into
your blouse. your eyes lamp
the floor of the sea. profiled,
the slope of your nose points
the secret way, the one that
can’t be seen straight-on, so
that the ambitious won’t find it
and be permitted to land.
they must fly forever
and never touch the earth’s breast.
they must eat swords of air.
the ripe peach shall never be theirs.
only the smallest of birds may descend
the ones with magnets the size
of their heads and implicit
songs. up in the sky
a million miles from the earth
your face is as large as the sun
and I am not lost, I am constantly
arriving. through this sacrifice I am
allowed to love you.