Solid Quarter

Visit Trembling Pillow Press for poetry books, broadsides, chapbooks, and Solid Quarter Magazine.

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Monday, June 29, 2020

Cave of Hands

i am in love with things unbearable

press palms against the womb wall
as if to say i exist & can you handle me
to obliterate anonymous, before the word
before the outline of the body
to say: here inside i hold the sound of my naming

layered into patterns, the wheat threshed design
circles 8 fold geometry etched the fire of existence
open that portal to death before us

look at my hands, she says, removing all of her rings
beauty is not ours to decide, i say, how long will we
be able to hold on to this life

none of this life on earth is guaranteed

temporary imprint. each shadow. each bond
of love we wrap tightly around the heart

i pull it forward.

to poet is beyond a lifetime of survive for me.
my hands are on the wall. i have always been here.
i can smell the cave. i can hear the echo of our blood
rushing as the fire dances & we catch and name
the world itself a keen knife slicing

take this too inside your conscious hide
no one can stop the flow of love

your magic is an indivisible and unconditional
belief in life, in the self replicating beauty of the universe
in the patterns’ ability to self regulate and that we must
absolutely learn to let go.

let go and let sound loose from you into a cave
of hands held for eternity: what are we allowed
to do with time.