Routeburn
the light wrinkles on the brick with the shadows of branches.
I sit thoughtfully, quietly, so that my ceramic insides do not tumble.
a thousand miles away, there is a cool pool of water that rapids frame;
there, it is a summer morning. shudder when you enter the water, a
sweetness so cold it empties your lungs. remember that you are alone in
it: the sun warming your shoulders, the mountains steady and unmoving.
we are not so far from this moment, a thousand miles away, and right
now. I place my ceramic pieces carefully in this pool. I trust the cradle
of the water. I am left empty and safe. Sitting, less quietly, on Thursday.
I sit thoughtfully, quietly, so that my ceramic insides do not tumble.
a thousand miles away, there is a cool pool of water that rapids frame;
there, it is a summer morning. shudder when you enter the water, a
sweetness so cold it empties your lungs. remember that you are alone in
it: the sun warming your shoulders, the mountains steady and unmoving.
we are not so far from this moment, a thousand miles away, and right
now. I place my ceramic pieces carefully in this pool. I trust the cradle
of the water. I am left empty and safe. Sitting, less quietly, on Thursday.