(no subject)
translucent orange vials bright like highway warnings. wreck ahead, between big curves and a lamp post waiting to fall, and
i was there! and knowing, determined to see through and catch the red skies in mourning, pretty and captivating and seemingly done.
or had they not yet begun?
not yet begun to see, a small infant freshly plucked and messy. blind, without the aid of transparent glass
everywhere, slid within holy frames,
some upon which we traced in love when the heater made canvases in the nite,
and others that you took off and placed on the table in preparation even after the loving was long gone. (i am trusting that it had begun.)
opaque masses, no question as to their intentions, running into dead ends in the dark
of my convex frame quelling yr concave, only to have it begin heaving again, leaving.
a coup de grace to winter car rides
i will not regret blind faith at 3 am,
playing a cosmonaut, warrior, girl,
massive and unshrinking no matter the signs.
i will not regret this thing,
this that i share with yr mother-
i have loved you with my insides.