fourth poem :)

(note: I don't know why all I write about is light. I'll work on expanding that. but it was such a pretty day, how could I help it?)


Notes on the Magnanimity of Light

Love is a word written by a girl
in a novelty pen as wide as her ten fingers,
so I ignore the swollen volumes
the light writes on your upper lip
and insteps, clasped like hands on the sulphurous grass.
We could make any riverbank the Seine
if we chose to, but we don't,
though the light compels itself through the leaves
onto your arms,
and the wind moans in the laurel without pause.

Soft love, you can die by the water
with the moulted down of geese
who leave the shorn brown banks in flocks,
cawing at the bellies of their brothers,
webs milling the air, ungainly, unalone.

But even autumn forgets itself
when the sun flares on the water!
Oh, let your lips fall open on a golden phrase
the wind takes up like a catechism through the trees.