Daybreak in outer space
to be moved not of your own accord ask why you stirred your Milo sweet eyelids damp lashes onyx fingers feeling for knobs. why you entered mourning still as a streetlight the air swollen pregnant with indigo and orange skin the possibility of dawn pressing those wet lids each humid desire gaseous and immense licks in precious wavelengths just beyond the quiet doorframe the earth unveiling hot and new stealing the colors of Saturn.
black hole (daymaker)
absence is a child seeing her Creator in the colorless pockets of distant matter between stars. she combs scripture desperate for evidence that darkness is next to godliness. What harried heaven maker claimed light for His image? she pinches her flesh feels unholy fears even small sins checking for slits in sidewalk wary of all voids even in concrete watches the road cling solid to her shadow its deepened pith as light retreats parts like a sea yields to its opacity whole and languid stretching away trying to loose itself from her She is unfinished, a colon between 139 and 14 : I praise you for I am fearful ly and wonderfully made Wonderful are your works; my soul knows it very well the scriptures rigid like the fullness of an hour her fear fluid and unrelenting as time what she knows very well are what parts if her are blackest the elbows the knees the eyes searching the skies for origin craving its unmistakable density
for grandma
after Black hands by robert overby
the first intimations were bubbling to fruition in the tenderest space behind my earlobe in my finger tips to just sweep them along those Neptune water wrists. A sigh. You slipped in like a thread like you had anchored me wetted the frayed end with your mouth so it would glide and in I sank into the yellow cloth which fell so gently on your universe-colored lap you are the most precious of them midnight hands what life sprung from those silvery palms what looms what gracious pluck like a mother sucking the cloudy snot from a baby’s trembling nose the dip and settle of your arms in motion is richer than religion you kept sewing on the seventh day God gave up. Between your thighs lies my origin your prayers against knaps they sit in blue evening strokes the color of genesis Black is not shadow it is the yellowest nucleus of sun
