Elemental II

how did we live, laughing
at the experiment of weekends
when our nocturnes kept
their drowning notes mixed in?

i am waiting no more
in this hollow
for the pleasure of ephemeral things
whose hands enter the day
empty of creations,
whose tongues tell few secrets
to the strings that sculpt our
dancing necks

but look at this one,
grace-stunned hair around a plinth,
moonblind on a shifting floor

so i spin now
on a current
whose passage plays handsome courage
at this moment-to-be, my arms
flexed elemental,
whorled in flux

like a night dismembered,
each piece
afloat on younger stars

 

© J. Celan Smith