When she secedes
When it deserts
When they detonate
Then.
When the sun melts
When snow seals
When the moon unravels
When land lifts anchor
Then.
When blue begins
When tongue is home
When dreams grow
When I am returned
Then.
When breath is distant, sometimes awol: that old, faithless swain
When skin secedes — submerging me in memory
When blood deserts, racing for the great outdoors
When cells detonate and strobe chests with meteorites
When the sun melts in rivulets on July
When snow seals January in glazed cellophane
When the moon unravels over the Marais (and I lead him home by unspun
hand)
When land lifts anchor in Seoul, birthing cherry trees
When blue begins to stain the black, woo Soulages and eclipse shellac
When tongue is the home that hitchhikes with me
When dreams outgrow flowerbeds or fears climb unweeded
When I am returned, an old sock turned: inside out, holes darned, yarn
trimmed, a swollen foot ice-packed, maybe ironed
Then, and then, and then, do I reach out to wrap myself in your voice.
