The Crush
There is this tense love, this dense
text of time we’re in the state of.
That is to say, all that we once
knew and knew well is a slide-
show of memory, and we
have no recollection like
the present looking backwards.
That is also to say, these waterfalls
we ride on, the tops of the urges
and, further, the low notes in return,
are melodies everyone can sing /
has sung at one point or another
(in the shower, in the car,
for a friend, this fear or love).
Singing then is a work of wild
nature, free and spurred by air
or gravity or the moon’s care
or all of the above and more
part of us than we know, little
aquariums that we are. Planet
tilts and we go swoosh, call up
another song and wave to sleep
the dreams of our younger days
erupting on screens and newsfeeds
documenting all that we don’t
know about the world anymore
but persevere nevertheless until
the last of the curfews run out.
i’d end this poem with nevertheless in next to last line, as last line seems just a restate of things, takes away from the impact.
your bio and url tk