at the edges of my perception
i feel the shearing forces of my heart
break against the force of your reality.
i cannot own you
you cannot own me
i collapse into this idea which never existed.
i wanted to believe in
the imagery kundera painted in my mind
when he said, “Two people in love, alone, isolated from the world, that's beautiful,”
but you never embraced the oceans of possibility
and i understand why.
i can’t blame you.
but you can blame me.
we both were hostile in embrace
i would nod off when you talked of pleasantries and trifles
and when the dishes were stacked and your voice was calling
to my inattentive heart
i could hear the native spirits of the plains drumming
and crying there powwow songs
was it possible for love to be decided by the cleanliness of dishware and silver?
you gorged on my excuses
to distract me from the possibility that they were actually my choices.
and so in truth, I am guilty, as a man.
My crimes are sloth and fury.
And in that desolate flower
i thirsted for poison to quench my heart,
because I was weak but a child afraid of losing you.
there is a vacant space that passes through me
because i am bound to the physicists reduction to all things being matter
i find a place in my stomach where the gravity persists.
this is where i assign its location...
in truth, this is only one center in a vacancy
a circumference-
i conjure polarities
who will we be when we are not one?
who will we be?
and will you call me,
will i call you,
will i hear your voice the same? …...................
had i never known rilke, i might not know what this is,
but the pain in my heart, i know it....
it is such beauty i’m still just able to bear.