One long swing
a flat arc slowly
along a long line
of stretched Manila.
They live here
and know and let
lovers ride their tire
at night.
Less of every other thing
than this arc slowly.
Without the sun the sky
is alight with every other star.
In the dark
make one long swing
flat arc slowly let
lovers ride their tire
and live here.
The still spot at the end
is the pivot: how
it stretches out
for miles between
the tree and the road.
There their living
room light is on.
My wife, laughing
makes one long swing
for miles in the dark
The tree shadows
half the sky
half the arc beneath
the open sky
at night
shows every other thing
At night everything
the sun showed each
shadows together
with the dark ground.
Every other star
across half the sky.
Half the arc
stretches out
for miles over the dark ground
between the tree's
shadow and the road's.
She floats, still.
Pivots, moving still,
stretching out slowly
for miles, laughing.
By me
on the grass
looking up from the ground
at her in the sky.
Tucked in to the grass and ground
all roots and earth
and everything else buried
and shaded, looking up
at her swing, the sky
and everything else.
Your slung weight
on the way down builds.
The ground pulls down.
Then you rise
out and away, a little
lighter always until
that floating.
You weigh nothing
and pivot to fall again
along one arc
pivoting slowly.
Lovers, laughing, float
at night
between shadows
over the dark ground.
You're hanging on hard
at the lowest point
your weight slung closest
to the dark ground.
That is when you move fastest.
It is the pull of everything else
buried and shaded
on your slung weight
that moves you fastest
along the long arc
for miles
in their yard
between the tree
and their light,
laughing.
No comments:
Post a Comment