A Cargo of Green Hearts
at last it rained.
the clouds spread their blue, blue eyelids.
too long we embraced the sun
the round yellow arms the dusty fingertips
for decades it seems the heat we
believed was everything
imagining in this bottomless desert
god spoke through a dry mouth
whispered rasped through dead leaves.
then, a drop.
and our tongues extended alarmingly
like the hands of starving
children and another
and this, the story
of how our eyes were filled how
the fish learned to breathe without
air so lovely their gills dancing
like Chinese fans. listen, it is true
our third eye is made of water
a parting gift to us from the horseshoe
crab, wise old boatman of the sea
back when we traded leg for fin
and wandered mad and foolish
across the earth troubling things
troubling ourselves but still
it is water, still
the kiss it is water
still in the heart's
it is water that carries the salt
of our tears to the sea
where it prays
where it reclines buoyantly
where it sleeps like a calmed god.
Poems are posted here when I'm ready to share them. I often don't title my poems. The date you see above the poem may be the date it was posted here and not necessarily the date it was created. To see more, click on the Archives below.
Unless otherwise noted, all content ©Paul-William Gagnon, Creative Commons Attribution-Non Commercial-NoDerivs license.