Eternal Return II
Because in this kingdom of unlikely wonders
we never saw it with our eyes—not the
smaller signs, or the larger erasures.
All came scattershot, like the wind
rushing headlong through torn screens
carrying the laughter of strangers.
Until extinction stops being forever,
I’ll pitch everything I have against death:
muscle memory, tenacity, my whorls & spires,
my lips. When we do the hard work of
extricating ourselves from these systems.
When they suture us back together
to create something more vaguely eternal,
more hope than terror, like Miami’s Golden
Mammoth in a glass vitrine (coffin?)
at the Faena: 24-karat mythological beast
interred at the head of the dwindling beach,
the menacing sea. Tell me we’ll be all right.
When the sun comes up there’s our desire
(the world / its terroir / the taste of your skin)
illuminated like the calf Moses burned,
then ground to smithereens. He scattered
those ashes on the water, forced the people
to drink. Remember: after each day comes night.
There will be a time when the earth stops
answering; pray for an aperture.
2020-08-04 11:31:40
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