Wednesday, October 03, 2007

So I brought it here to you.

I pull my knee down
like a mountain
below the sea
and these tiny clouds
are a crown
around the space

the waters pool
on the shore
my stomach
like a tide drawn
high and out
by breath

that motion
coming and going
leaves a mark
on the rocks,
woven lines on my fingers
from warmth of friction

drops of water
make the fields of grasses
tumble down the
sloping hills
my shoulders
my hair

this hot season
that makes steam rise
from everything
makes flowers unfold their petals
my lips part

And you tell me
that you aren’t compelled
to be there.
That you are comfortable
under your roof under the stars.

I am
not
so separate.

1 comment:

Cataract Moon said...

I see an amazing growth in your work from 2005-2007. Nice imagery with this poem. --Moon