Tuesday, August 30, 2016

new church.

[Give me your breath,
I can't hold everything above water.]

i think of all of our notes
and messages
and all the other instruments of love and hearts,
and i think
i need to be acknowledged by some touch
and that's the key to calm
and i'm alright the moon is
right across the sky in the canopy of old oaks
but my mind is out in the dusty plain
and you just stand there at the glass looking at me.

you trace my constellation in a sparkling chalk
outline, and wonder how our stars ever aligned
or if they'll cross us.

despite the overwhelming odds we still smile
and i watch the patches of pink bloom in your cheeks
watch the rose color merge with freckles
a collision of stars in the dark
and i don't mind watching from afar
i don't mind the cheap seats
in the mezzanine
and the nosebleeds

but together we move farther
leaning more toward where the spirits roam free,
saturn's outer rings and galactic dust,
bridging the monumental distance between us
and the next us like us

we move farther into the light of stars
that died long before we ever even knew
our names

and we take to the skies.

the pupils dilate
some believe we can
just lay down to sleep
and the eyes roll
and the eyes gaze up and fix

map these faces in your star charts
infinite stars dispelling broken prayers

infinite pupils of starlight gazing back

behold the progenitors of love,
behold the stars
gods of the new church.