Blackbirdan online journal of literature and the artsSpring 2012 v11n1
 print version

A new science

He tells me the body does not end
where it seems. The limits placed on it
are like rocks meant to hold the sea back—

the two densities catch in each other.
There are new shapes
every day: the body meets the bone cage

as clouds stir the tops of trees. And we are walking
amid these same trees and his voice spreads
like an ache, louder and louder—the wind

overtakes. I breathe it in, and him,
and it stretches within me. It finds my eyes,
my throat. Its red leaves are in me, falling, falling—
           a red sea.  

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