July 3, 2012

poem 213 of a poem a day for 2012

the Moon has me in Her nostril-howled salt flats

to find your elixir
in the Sun
your body needs
to be a canvas at night
having been pelted
with molecular surrender  
all through the day
pinned to a coronal mass
ejection of crossroads
altar-burning the incense
of every roadside
you’ve been attracted to
you need to stop and ask
for directions back
inside yourself

you ask out loud
to the bobble-head gyroscopes
in your cupped handed hopes
what are the dashboard lighthouses
peering, veering into
where am I

a seductive voice
from the disembodied dark
you have wandered in to
renders you helpless
with its rhapsody and
you know at once
that you don’t mind
bleeding out here

you are where you want to be
every moment you stop
to ask me that question

so even if you can’t see
yourself to find the road
you’re on, your hands
are never far
from the turn
of my wheel
from everything
you can steal
back to your soul
from the ways my skin
holds you down
to trace a calculus of rust
into a dark map
of wings, waiting


1 comment:

  1. I keep saying this but, your last stanza is the gold leaf on a beautiful piece of art.