Monday, February 16, 2009


Wrap your atmosphere around me –
I do not want to be the moon, unable to deflect
even the smallest cosmic speck. I flinch and dodge
a million bullets in a meteor shower, yearn to watch
the light show at night without fear. Without you,
my surface is sensitive – I bruise at the slightest affront,
scurry away to nurse my hurt. If I must wear
the craters of personal implosions and exterior stonings,
dress them in deep blue water with stunning clarity
so that none may question why this happened
but only know that nothing so beautiful
and pure could come without pain.

Plant in my volcanic cavity a hemlock tree
so all will witness how you’ve rooted yourself
in my explosive fragility and called me strong.

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