Swim in the Light
Pain is not a short spasm of wind
There to form unease and appease sadism;
To ruffle tufts of steadfastness out their comfort
It is the adjustable spanner, vice grip cold of metal
Withheld from none, it leaves icy scalding at
Steady, pedal, frostbite-pace
And balmy speakeasy—all in all
The vast array of sunlit suddenness and sultry
Speaks only to hearths of ardor beneath molding rime
Indulge in duplicitous drafts and find the cold insouciant,
Spreading water over skin, taciturn and lingering stye
Of blues, refrain-less, lightless
Walking along, cracked baking rock beneath my soles
Toe joints sending neural memos of dull sharpness.
My skin so slowly, sizzles browner
Alleviated by shadowy cast nets, sweeping
Like jazz drummer brushes across and around my shoulders.
the moon, background to silky blue,
silver glow smothered beneath the time of day.
dusty paw prints murmur tales of spasmodic happenings.
like me now: so stalk-like and estranged in this company
wind’s flouncing hums, and tabular totems of life.
I was born backwards, like salmon swimming
upstream to lay their eggs on gravel beds
in the fall. My palms face upward, they’re daydreamers
that fear heaven’s answer will fleet while they sleep
My toes gave lead to my heels with my first steps
and waltz to minor nocturnes, a staple of loose fables
Let the glass shards of the past pass my eyes, dear friend
And I’ll see shallow futures like fingerlings never leave
Show me pieces of the horizon’s first crossed light
And I’ll see swallowed time that follows
I was born backwards, like flipped leaves
in the splintered branches of a tree in the spring