Relative Distances

I loved it once

the distance.


Like almost lovers

we were chasing

around the blocks

around the clock.


It propelled me out

into the arms

of the world

and of you,

and of you.


The rock descended

deeper and deeper

into the body of water

drawing wider and wider circles

disappearing into the world


So I moved and moved

always up and away

and onward,

always onward.

Until the day came

when I didn’t feel

the wind in my hair

or the seasons on my skin

or foreign foods in my belly

or new words on my tongue.


It appeared

as though the circles were contracting.

But they can’t,

can they,

oh luckily.


Earlier, I’d been that ox

moving across those fertile fields

step by step,

moving forward and onward

only ever,

only ever.


Then, fall and winter came,

holding us captive:

the fields

and all creatures, too.


And then when

the outward pace had almost come

to a full stop,

it came back,


my long lost lover.

It came in the middle of the afternoon,

when I was having coffee.


It looked different now,

Spelled its name differently, too.

Don’t we all at times.



So my arms are still out

here in the darkness

and my fingertips trembling.

If only they had eyes.

At least they feel

the dust in depths unseen

and then your skin