by Adrienne Rich

Dark blue shot with death rays but only a short distance
keep of course water and batteries, antibiotics
I love the infinity of these silent spaces
Always look at California for the last time

We weren’t birds, were we, to flutter past each other
But what were we meant to do, standing or lying down
Together on the bare slope where we were driven
The most personal feelings become historical

Keep your hands knotted deep inside your sweater
While the instruments of force are more credible than beauty
Inside a glass paperweight dust swirls and settles
Where was the beauty anyway when we shouldered past
each other

Where is it now in the hollow lounge
Or the grounded airline where the cameras
For the desouling project are being handed out
Each of us instructed to shoot the others naked

If you want to feel the true time of our universe
Put your hands over mine on the stainless pelvic rudder
No, here (sometimes the most impassive ones will shudder)
The infinity of these spaces comforts me
Simple textures falling open like a sweater

Share via
Copy link
Powered by Social Snap