the alien heart
obscures into the wild
of imagination
the way a clam,
more likely to remain open
when the moon sings,
will spill out pearls
until its earthly delights
illuminate the evening's
silver beach.
& we found eachother here,
dusting off the remains
of the decades ashes,
batting eyelashes
as if it were a method
of communication
whose mathmatics,
despite geometry,
redifined a century
of dispair.
i'll take your hands
into mine
where the pools
of our elastic folding
reel into the blue
of everything.
& where each footstep
is another phantom collapsing
into the moments that we can't feel
unless we dance,
oblivious to our own
perilous descents.
i push my fingers
through an absent sky
to judge the distance
there between us.
& i pluck at each star
with a mind
of broken youth,
trying in broken grasps
to reposition
the heavens to describe
some hopeful future,
mindful of the vacuum
we inhabit
with our hearts.. |
Submission Name: a century of dispair
