Thinking about dead lovers and of a woman who did nothing for seventy years

Sometimes when I’m sitting in amber
mood lighting
trying to relate to a tragedy on TV
I feel a sinkhole emerging inside of me
Like a helicopter zooming out from the
darkness of the pit
to reveal its size
A seven car pile up near its edge

The six o’clock news

I brush over my chest trying to find out
how a concrete heart could be hollow
What blood moved from it to my feet
to keep me standing

It is not until I am in bed in the dark
that I know it was a past life calling

Next time we are in bed together
and you ask for a secret
I’ll say
I do not belong to the present
Sometimes my eyes are just projector lenses
And I’m screening the past
So how could I belong to you


Please embrace the following:
We are not killing time
We are not linear
Nor are we infinite lines
traveling in the same direction
that never meet

If I had been no where
and done nothing
A brain in a vat
how could we touch

I feel form in my skin
In my arms
The sides of my face
A substance of unknown means
I only know that it grows
as I age
and fills me
gives me a weight you can
feel when I walk into a room
And you will know that is a woman

So hold me
This body that becomes more like the earth
every day


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