It’s a Circular Life
It’s a big deal,
a freshman’s last final big,
this revolution back to you.
I was a prattling preteen - attention deficit;
seeking this and this and this -
forgot our heart song, mistook shadow for sound,
mistook your silence for thick soft piles of simpatico.
Absorbed by orbit, my tethers spiraled behind me.
I was a hard shelled beetle banging about a 60 watt bulb.
I called it love - seared my wings embracing a dragon;
the cavernous the air rippling about me was
full of purpose, empty of you.
I was a tick encysted for some mega-drought ahead,
conjured as if I could be Gaea, creating hunger
so I could feed it. Blood is rich but unsustaining.
I tasted iron on my tongue and stuck it out.
I greeted my revolution; tasted its bitterness for catharsis,
how it hates the long view, how it longs for the slow turns
that wring out fog and blizzards – how it prefers
the incremental procession of heartbeats about an axis.
how it baits me with breadcrumbs to trail you
over the frozen surface of our winter garden,
how it feasts with the titmouse and chickadee
on the seeds of our harvest.
I am a horseshoe magnet growing fuzzy with metal filings.
I quiver, they accrete along my collarbone.
Both poles swing toward the magnetic pull of you.
It’s a big deal.
I discover in your reflection how we shine like alabaster
in a day filled with verga – I note our feet
never touch the ground, as you open me like a parachute
so I can glide in: toes splayed, seeking the green pond,
breaking the surface, coming around.
Every return holds another departure, it’s a circular life.
Again I’ll stick out my tongue to the next revolution,
we'll greet it with magic mantras.
I promise to break open if you promise to spill.
If we tether our axis, we can avoid the 60 watt bulbs;
even savor the slow procession of heartbeats
and tiny dots of snow geese flying north.