Poetry about stars, physics, love, cosmology, romance and the strangeness of being alive.
5.19.2013
Mortal Music
You fell in the dark and I couldn't catch you.
My wings had been clipped by the bard.
And when I sang to you of suffering and longing
you just held the pain and let your jaw clench hard.
I did my best to hold you in my sickness,
but the cells just stuck to you like tar.
And when I took the belt and loved and whipped you
you were like the birds that birthed the stars.
If I could take the tar and feathers
and douse myself in guilt and gasoline,
could I listen to the trill and tender?
could you have been my Mary Magdalene?
But then I took the nails and hammer
and pounded wings into my flesh
and when I thrashed and blamed the maker
my blood danced with mercy into mesh.
So now my dear you see I am no sacrifice.
Everything I've built I've made with song
and when I cry for love or loss or loneliness
I'll hymn and know it's right where I belong.
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