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Fred |
here under the statue of liberty and the pyramids
and the silent dusk. Link your arm in mine and
give me your furtive smile.
Let us walk together for a time.
(In my mind, I have tethered the continents
with a piece of rope and mixed the sands
of their shores. I have carved a careful radius,
sectioned off the fathoms and latitudes.)
We accept our fate as a myth or a fable
or a children's nursery rhyme, told in confidence,
told in disbelief. I myself feather the tale,
sand down the edges down, print it on glossy paper.
I myself frame it squarely in truth and oak.
We cover up the fragments and the distance
with rags of rags and words, with tattered
sentences. I try to draw the sunset on the horizon,
direct the stars with semaphores.
I accept us as separated flesh
or thinned blood or slabs of ice shaling
and sloughing off a moving glacier. I have
siphoned off the length of things.
I have no answer for the breadth of them.
Labels: Fred
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