Abandon

Abandoned in myrrh, your hands

the spill, river's eye, milk & branch

flowers edge screens

bellies shine ready.

There is nothing simple about an eyelid

or the incessant thump of the distance.

As if it was ever that simple.

Apprehension. Arrival. A dubious price.

And who is right if we are ruined

among wires of scarlet, & a grip

powerful in the cut of the day.

Those chains of eyes by the fence

do not distinguish differences

spices, lips, honey & salt

while sweeter languages

behave as if this was a garden

as if this was spring.

Is it too late to correct our imperfections

with passion?

Is freedom in our way

are storms enough, & torrents?

All feeling has been pulled

at surface

into pressures of dawn

an extremity - pleasure & anger.

Outlines of roofs delineate cliffs

should I decide to go here

rather than trace sweat patterns

that translate us

more than this simple economy

the voice of my beloved.

It demolishes me, scales me

is part of the support, wall & window

my ascension over low winter

where rain exceeds us

where flowers paper the earth.