Angel, I've flipped light switches
on/off, on/off -

just to imagine brilliant kindling
that crackles even in your faintest voice.

The flickering static of my (then) headless heart
gripped steadily onto the emboldening visions

of our two serpentine vines becoming one.
The mitochondrial production of my heartstepping

swept us nearer and nearer to the hallowed entrance,
as your absence bent each midnight into my eyes

and immersed each day's first step
out of bed with molten self-refraction.

You were molded and wished upon -
clarifying for my ears the textures of art,

from the sorrowful and regenerative
buoyancy of vocal harmonies

to the piles of fluttering scars
that I tried again and again to weave into solace.

Despite the frail mirror of my faults,
my ice-fisted heart could not rest without yearning to find you.

_____________________________________________________


In sharing each other,
we tend our hunger for life.

Even when all these ceaseless world-pirouettes
launch us into gut-wrenching vertigo:

together we carefully recalibrate
the volatility of our traipsing feet.

06/06/2006

Posted on 06/06/2006
Copyright © 2026 Tom Goss