the sky is quilted. it is
blanketed and woolen.
the sky is gray and it is
white. no, that’s not right.
the sky is empty.
and overflowing.
it is jawbreaker velvet
purple and brand new
baby blue, so light
it seeps into your eyes for
a quick licking taste.
the sky is companionable,
giving unassuming home to
a chorus of clouds. clouds,
a ubiquity here
in southeast Alaska. clouds,
today they are low and
engulfing. today
they tap us on our heads and
backs in snow and
in rain; a puff from
the north and the air between
our heads and the clouds
goes dizzy with snow flake.
a sigh from the south
and snow shifts and shimmies
to fat, hip-rolling raindrop.
coffee sputters
in the stovetop espresso maker.
coffee steams
in the handmade mug,
resolute on the small wooden table
of morning. ghee
sheens coffee with
rainbow’d drops. bitter
coffee clearly flirting
with fat, clarified.
i look at my pooling body,
feel the meandering streams
of my mind. i think
of your body, taut and fine
grained, like a wooded corner
on a quiet country lot,
just purchased after many lifetimes
of saving. soon,
some of these trees come
down, just as the small home goes
up. soon,
limbs and trunk are turned
to heat, smoke, ash. and yes,
we are aging, you and i
both. and yes, these lives are
finite, yours and mine
both. and we are not
those people in a duplex on
Saint Paul Street, furtive
in an afternoon bed.
those people were once
taut and limbed, were once
owl’d and nested.
the heat from those people
has helped propel us,
we meager humans, still
using combustion to fuel our
motions. today,
our exhalations today,
will become the jeweled halos
of tomorrows sweated windows.
perhaps a quiet country lot
with a wooded corner,
taut and whispering, perhaps
this will always live
only in dream. i know
my body pools now.
it walks up ahead of me
now. i know it’s hard for me,
sometimes, to keep
up. but what is there
to keep up with?
we are here
on this spinning planet,
its core molten and liquid.
and we, human
animal, we are
also of liquid core.
can you see the heat
wavering up from the plains
of our skin? can you
feel the gathering light,
just up and over the horizon?
zakschafer.com 