Sometimes Heaviness Is Measured In Kilometres

Red is only the color black, remembering.

When heaviness was not measured by weight

But by distance. He’ll climb

The spiral staircase & call her name.

Listen, the year is gone! I scribble things

Down. I try to build a life and shield it from decay

And the light keeps flickering. I have

Enough ink to give you the sea, but the ships?

How could I have known, that by pressing

This pen to paper, I was touching us

Perceiving eternity? That we are more

Then black ink on the bone.

White backs of angels facedown

In the blazing orchard. How this

Bread, daily broken, dipped in wine — and lifted

With exodus tongues, like any other

Thing — is only true as our trust

In hunger. “put yor hans on mai showduh”,

He will say to the cigarette smoke swirling

Into the phantom of a girl …