Ten years my Father travelled,
Travelled stony island shores
And I my twenty on planted lines
- Pennies on the track. Love.
Love is copper over eyes.
Orphaning boats on murderous seas,
Jealous beasts charge tons of steel.
The feral death a mile back -
Love, love is the stopping,
walking the cold wet miles of track
I kick. I push. I thrust myself
Upon dark miles of static
To love. To love is laying hands
On warm and humming rails
Distance is time gone, like songs of long gone lands
How far Sirens, can you call?
Across these prairies wide?
To love, to love is to feel
where the fingers were, the rot
The rot of dry bone in the soil
Look back. Watch distance disappear,
A single point of gone.
Rolling from cool intimacy
Collapsed to empty space
Love, love is wrestling with speed.
And I, who've lost grand fights to silence,
belt unbuckled at a nod -
Each sense painfully aware -
Beyond the smell of food and light.
To Love is to give without care.
How long have we been traveling?
Glad the air is shared and stale
To Love is a slow stirring
Like age a desperate silence
A slow and plodding hurry.
