When Light Emerges
Inside my abdomen I hold all the tears no one claims,
these tetherless sadnesses that wander person to person
seeking a home.
So I rest by a window looking and not
at what God has sprung from seed and soil,
as empty garbage cans roll curb to house behind our neighbors.
When I move my neck a few degrees left, a few degrees sky,
I let out the light-held breath and lose these orphan tears.
flower to flower, whisperless.
For no thing do we strive, I think.
Atoms and smaller than atoms are not really,
but individuals alone in their orbit so close together
we are asked to believe in their transient synergy:
the bed from which we rise
floor on which we rely
and every other matrix dweller’s tool.
My mannerisms wish to be less me,
until, untethered, your voice
My hands returned, thick in memories,
a few pieces were not swept away.