I.
We lie facing the air
Stretching
On the ice
I slide, roll on.
Endless.
II.
If I close my eyes
You disappear
Then reappear
In my ear
Joints cracking
Body thudding
You sigh and
Yawn.
I yawn too.
III.
We stand
Tall as winter trees,
Bare without our leaves.
In the spots of sun,
We breathe and melt,
Our trunks wilt
Toward each other,
Sinking slowly
Together, into air.
IV.
Now water,
I ripple
Against your waves.
morning.
when night becomes morning,
it is not a slow melting of light,
not a steady run of color,
not spilled.
flash, flicker.
God turns on His lamp.
conserve energy
amid the blue
freely flooded,
i can see that
blind men are still blind,
those awake still awake.
this now.
you look at the floor and see a crevice which is widening as we speak.
can you believe it, to-day of all-days.
so we stand, looking at this gap now,
this now
our voices sitting still in our throats.
we have locked our mouths.
after all, what can be said?
did i mention this gap
this now
is situated between your left
and right leg?
we'll only be halves of what we are
as we are only halves of what we were
as we were only halves of what we had been.
but don't move.
why?
it's pointless, is it not, dear?
look.
this now.
ersatz.
there is one
who resembles her face
on which that smile melts
her benevolent fairy eyes
mother eyes
friend-lover eyes curtsy
every now and then
there is one
who resembles her words
her quotes and funny bones
light punches that sometimes
hurt a little, bruise prettily
faint blue-green-purple
every now and then
you'd see her in one
then in the other
you'd think about her
and these two
wondering if there can be
substitutes, or just ersatz
every now and then
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