i stood maybe
on silent shore of a mirroring lake deep
in Montana, up by the Canadian border.
or maybe
on a rock shattered shoreline
in Maine, perhaps Alaska,
ocean salt whipped into joyful frenzy,
later drying into a fine chalk
on my ruddy skin. like softening
bones. it could be i was
walking to the El train in Chicago, pausing
on an overpass, feeling
the arterial hum of mechanized blood
coursing just below. in all of this,
alone. i thought
of how humans spoil this
otherwise perfect planet. in all of this,
alone i thought.
how humans bring perfection
to an otherwise lonely planet;
this is the light that holds
hands with the dark. this
is the rupture that is required
to allow for bloom. we must
always be spoilers of our own
perfections, our every cell aching
for the homecoming of escape.
zakschafer.com 