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Holy in the Infinite

Month

April 2017

City Limits

City Limits

It’s always nice to think about
raising the dead
to find them again
tangible and deep.
but you come to find
that the earth has changed them
into someone
you no longer recognize.

because with you
I was as wide
as the night sky
I was without boundary

you and I
were without
the city limits
beneath our feet

Unknown to me as the fall
cold
assuming
light slipping away for the season

I don’t have a beginning
a good place to start
there is no first word in my story

I hardly remember the
beginning of my own existence
my first lonely
cry in the night.

I could only tell you
the ending

I’m certain now
I wasn’t born for a prophecy
I wasn’t meant for a mad season of hope.

Should I go now?
Leave the memory of me behind
for you to find later.
for familiarity
is a feeling
reserved for someone
already lost.

if you should have a world
no matter how temporary
no matter how transient
let me roam free there

This Side of the Sun

This Side of the Sun

you were nothing but sunlight
a mass of nerves
and heat
turned to flesh beneath me
along my bones,
where you will remain
as I wear my shadows
layered
on my skin.

Does my willful memory
hold you differently?
more solid beneath my hand
than you ever were
as if I had created a memory
from the thin dust
of summer.

And I wait
silent.
One hundred and seventy-three days,
turns slowly into
two hundred and seventeen days.

Trees moved to bone
lost their leaves
and I,
I’ve been shedding
myself
to the earth
one loss at a time.

what’s next?
what’s near?
I write you this letter
to let you know
the lengthening
stretching days
are torture
when you are not here
with me,
on this side of the sun.

Spring has no use for grief.
She will never cry
for the heart left for dead
in winter,
nor lay her flowers
on the grave
of a love long gone.

It’s been unseasonably warm
these past few days
as if to trick the hands of time

to hurry you along
to my doorstep.

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