Wednesday, December 29, 2010

Whose Leaf Does Not Wither

Speak strength into these / thin bones
burdened by pulsing meat / I feel a flood / starting
to drip, loosening tight joints and jaws
to know this song come flying above my head
and warming the sore soles of foot I have forgotten
belong to me
and my legs
and my breath / the whole
of me strung by fibers of white pearl together
layered and layered over by so many
fluid things.

The widening stories are true / true / true.
I knew the whites of his eyes better with every step
toward the tree / standing
like a thick-skinned man with long arms before him
akimbo / toes dipped in the river
like glass
cracking and mending and breaking toward salt seas.

The story goes /
One day we were made
in love and another in jealousy drowned and now
our weakness is wrapped up in linen, white linen,
and gold, and wood, and strength.