Time and Space

Everyone searches for a voice that says

yes in the dark. Of my soul, it says little

but needs much: hands, money, silk.

It settles for a dream and a word,

a plan made without thinking. So it goes.

____________

I wish for love, an embarrassment of it,

for flowers rotting on every windowsill, for

a twin traveler with a strong grip. Yes.

I dally in the mirror. I change the color

of my lips a hundred times. I talk to myself.

____________

The word goes forth. It spills the promise of

a life well-lived, of distance closed and mess

cleaned, secrets kept and roots spread. It smiles

back at me from the mirror. It charts bold lines

on shaky ground and keeps me on a lead.

____________

Questions of geography falter in the face

of tenderness, which can be whispered on

an open line or gathered in the nib of my pen.

But I can't stop the sky at the color I want.

I can't fold the ocean any more than a fitted sheet.

____________

Time is a test. It finds me home and warps

around me, asking if not then, then why not now?

Yes. Yes. Yes.

I say it to myself.

I always did.