Wednesday, July 26, 2017

but it soll not be so among you

Cycling 'round in circles,
my stomach starts sinking with
churning weight of
whiskey, chocolate cake,
and waiting on a boy.

my nun-voiced, vague
 Fuck. You. pushes back at
dark silent night,
pre-harvest crescent moon
hidden in the East by campus trees.

I want (I want I want)
to grab the throbbing blood
clot, push it from my heart,
pocket its irritating pulsedull warning
of a pain demanding tending
in some convenient capillary,
ignorable periphery.

But it persistsdamn it
I turn the handlebars into yet another circle,
about to unpluck the blood knot,
dam the pain away,
but she bursts

[The time10:53pm
an easy symbol to
throw at you,
easier than vicious shades,
amorphous fears
filling my lungs
in humid Indiana night air.
10:53 is easier to say than: you will never understand me
10:53 is easier to say than: you want to sideline, not to see, me
10:53 is easier to say than: you want some tamed little Catholic wife
to decorate a box on your picket fence checklist, and I have no interest in 
being boxed in
to anything.
Or tamed.
10:53 is easier to say than that.]

each time I think:
I'll push this one away
Shove him to a place
where I'm sure he cannot hurt me
convenient capillary in an
ignorable periphery
no reason to keep him anywhere 
closer than at arm's length
I can't pick him up to throw him
at all so
I'll not trust himI swearany further

yet, always,
those thoughts are followed by
a calm,
some sense of:
wait and see
a knowing something beautiful could be
if you'd only wait on grace
and not the boy.
(maybe the boy, too)

Circle my bike around again.
Choose to make roomtoday
for you.

It's a construction zone,
this space between
you and me.
No, I mean quite literally
not just as in Heaney's Scaffolding
bared elevator wires and brown-paper stairs
remind me we are very
incomplete still
but growing.

I look down
at your long toes
as you read
with soft and earnest timbre:
Just so, the Son of Man did not come to be served
but to serve
Sincere ring of your voice,
echoed in your sandaled feet
I believe you believe those words.

Catch my breath,
clamp lids down on leaking eyes,
Choose to make spacetoday
for grace,
and the small moments
she leads me to,
up to, and including, you.

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