Blue Music Dream

The Dead Bodies of Past Love.

(For M.)

 

over a land where the stars can learn to cry and cover me with light

not enough to see the outlines of things

but suspended light, the hues of distant objects in a dream,

I can see myself over a dark landscape

my palms on the ground seek for the prayers of semiprecious stone,

quartzite and travertine, some compounds of calcium,

listening out for the beat of time in the deep green of marble,

in the silence of bedrock, over the coursing of light on water,

over our lean bodies harvesting the kisses of complex dance,

my fingers follow the permanent abstracts of God’s standing still.

How still is the earth under my arms, how still the beating

Of a vast monochrome unobserved.

I can be king over this land, severing the heads of plants, of subjects,

instead I choose texture to guide me over the dead

bodies of past love, the leaping bodies of their ghosts

tongues out to taste the crying of stars.

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