I have been asleep inside,
and my furnaces are candles now.
The people who love me crease their brows.
Sideways crescents break the calm flesh.
Signals come at me from everywhere.
I awake to a thousand misty eyes and
unsatisfied frowns. My friends all
want to know where I’ve been.
I AM RIGHT HERE. I AM STILL HERE.
DON’T LOSE FAITH IN ME.
I am the sun today and the
ashes tomorrow; slack jaw.
I’m not dying I’m just sleeping,
and I’ve been weary for so long.
How inconvenient the last fight would come
when I stop to embrace slumber.
But…
Fear not for beneath the cypress
the roots still clutch the bowels
of everything that has supported
the wooden giant all along.
These digits still know the grip and
when it is time the kinesthesia will return
and my joints will unwind like spindles
to take up the task once again, again, again…
(The sigh that births the gale)
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment