prostrated
before
the restless memory of you--
two parts every old sensation
pouring down
like thick white milky light,
habits of thought, the things i know myself to know
stayed inviolate as the sharp white stars
embedded in the skin
of the arced back
of the night sky
and then
the one part
so new
like tender new grass
so fresh in color it near-hurts the eye
every blade
bending any way
at the slightest touch.
kneeling dizzy
between
these valent things
i know myself
at the very least
to be
yours.
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