We cannot escape the pull of the gravity without great effort. We are pulled and pushed by forces of nature, forces we do not understand fully. We must try to maintain our balance at all times. For now, I hold on, not sure which direction is the right one.
at the moment my foot became submerged in the Aegean
my invisible friend knew he had fallen down an endless well of emotion
and we both gasped a breath full of dust, memories, and forgotten things
the same moment Joan of Arc felt the first flame flicker on her flesh
the exact second I fell in love with you
an eagle’s egg hatched
a thousand-year bloom burst open
an unnamed creature pulled itself from the ocean
the Russian winter of 1812
at approximately 4:30 AM, February 11, 1963, the poet placed her head in the oven
the first narwhal was sighted
the first word was spoken in anger
the first thought was written in despair
the fig blossom became fruit
you touched me
a divine wind stopped a Mongol horde
a man turned out his lights and went to sleep
it was yesterday
it was 6,420 C.E.
it was today
we were together
we were singing
we were screaming
the storm calmed
someone lied to you
fingers strummed strings
music reached their ears
an old woman was comforted
my voice cracked
I kissed you
I kissed you
This pond vibrates a gentle hum
while I approach, brimming with water.
Frogs grumble in agreement
while the sinking sun slips silently;
a wary deer riffs a dressage
through still-dry grass crackling
crunching last autumn’s detritus,
unsure of me—if I’m there or where
aware of herself and sure I am near.
She stomps a cautious passepied
punctuated by huffs and snorts,
in four-direction demonstration.
Frogs grown silent pick up again,
a softer, longer yeaahhhh.
Birds lull low in the dimming light.
A fish smacks one last snack.
I came to cry, but forgot.