Here she is, here again,
that woman you once were,
that sum of memories
you drowned in purple wine.
The nostalgic beast who lurks
in the lacery of your mind,
opening your still eyes
in this last day you are a life,
returning you to reality
as you enter water.
You feel the electric world
the raw nerve of the world,
through her blood-heat.
When you came tonight
that red clock had shrunk
with all the grapes of summer.
The river was kind, static
to the point of blackness,
lying in a self-absorbed luster.
Its dark bed was bottomless
– nothing lower could be looked to.
It was just like the long lie
your fever bathes into
since all stars have failed.
You thought you’d burn with them,
your sex petrified in crystal.
But now every drop of milk
in your skin of lotus flower,
changes into indelible ink.
The white disk of the sun
stretches flat on water
strewing turbulent blue mirrors.
There’s a clatter under your feet,
the sound of remembering,
round stones, like chains.
Mud slips between your toes,
as some new uterine blood.
And your heart is turning green
like a cruel joke.
You thought it would sink
and fossilize without a face.
A porous rock bedded in clay,
careless of its own ache.
You thought you’d be free, at least,
to enjoy your mineral end.
A colorless dot in a colorless vein
running to a colorless sea.
How you needed that rubbish.
And surely a heart of water for this life
would have been a better heart.
Now in the lucid blue current
all the love comes back too clearly
and it whirls again like a fury.
You thought today was your last death,
your last fight.
Well. It is your last death.
Nothing was any closer to you
than these sunken strata of rock.
Or the willow that bleeds honey,
and the past all sealed in its rings.
They have collected the lost songs,
the forgotten names, the cummy words.
And suddenly it is right.
Your naked soul and the whole river
curled up at your feet.
The stones in your pockets
take down the blue breath of your mouth,
whistling ” Write, write ! Remember !”
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