The way a blackbird (feat. Brisa Roché)

The way a blackbird keeps pronouncing malleable

the whiter sky it moves against, the way this sky is buoyant

over muddy houses cowering, in these ways

your body continues to appear, resilient and bread-smooth,

indolent under even the heavy igneous coverlet that is my body,

as I lay it upon you. (Even as unmanned I throw my brick limbs

down across you!)

Oranges on the kitchen-board and sea-stones in a bowl

have found their roundness incidentally.

So by growth or slow by wear has your body become this now.

You soar like sashes up while I as woolen as a cable

coiled see you move in natural meter,

smooth above unwieldy shadow.

Silk in supple pillows vigils, tested by its catch

of clods and blackened busted comet-rock.

Now you too are proven strong.

(I plan to clasp you blindly, like a handle, then relent...)

You catch my team of arms like water comforts fallen timber.

You softly catch my team of arms with ease that’s thoughtless,

like a halo.