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Light Growing Long in the Branches, and I Think
Now, in the era of everything aching-- through after hunger has worn thin, and ceased to protect us after desire has dimmed out and tilted in pale lines drafted on ceiling tiles so many unforeseen lines on our faces after the back gate has slammed and been quieted, long beyond sacred stains buried in the new block after the wet heal having contributed, after consent, and caress (having) met in the detonated careless economy of our lives, (having not) upon further consideration you deserve more than this shouldering exiled belief in the world, more than this shivering wait And late rustling shade looms Immense, having (or is it early?) felt hands and witness yet proofs of their agency, yearned bitten lips, still learning yet thoughts and their laughter, nibbled lobes open yet to the vault, sprawling vast skies of tomorrow’s March: fear, defeat, grief, labor, triumph, and feast. |
