Masterpiece

From up here

the fine film on the surface

the water boatman skitters

but does not dive

and all is a heady half-syllable

of the pillow wreaths of words that lie below.
ㅤ

From this ache of a place

this concrete sheath upon the earth

this fuzz in the recording

this busy intersection, this garish sideshow

right up against your eyes and chest

the hand that needs

and wants

and moves so quick between

its touches it cannot feel,

I write with longing.
ㅤ

I had the masterpiece

in true stillness I saw the star veil

that enshrouds my nape

the collar of velvet that wends into sky

the endless chamber of this breathing

where holy songs and secret truths flit like fireflies

in the midsummer arbour’s tall rushes

numerous as the lower lights

and all around