Mar 09, 2010 13:54
My chest cavity feels like it contains 48psi of helium
and extends from here to Nantucket. I want to
use that air to lift me over the Atlantic
but my shoes are tied to paint-splattered anchors
and I can't kick them off.
I have six thousand miles of rope
between her and me,
and we clothesline tall buildings
when we go about our daily endeavors.
I'm laying bricks to slacken the line
and painting the median with swirls.
A century ago, Chinamen built our rails,
but when I lost my ring, they tore up the tracks.
My gloves are worn, earning their keep.
She is the coal in my furnace.
Under her skin hides diamonds.