Thursday, February 21, 2013

Atlantic Letter, Third Draft

From this knee-deep tide, between the sand
and the tongue of the Atlantic sea,
the white of sails is reflected in the waves.
The fathers of our fathers stand
beneath the cosmic map, a western wind.

The leaves here are new,
though for many millennia they have grown
in the Old World; seeds caught between the heels
of knights crossing the desert of what is now
pronounced Lebanon.

Love is a strange thing.
When in the morning I drove to these low tides
I wanted to believe that I had forgotten
the hollowness in the center of your back.
We cannot choose the parts of the body we will forget.

The moon wants to forget that in one thousand years
she will break, scatter through the darkness
touching the arms and legs of her earth.

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