ascending
black
piano keys
from the mouth
of singing deaf
into
a kiss
between
moonlight
and a garden
lined with trees,
dandelions,
sunflowers,
and ferns
which spring
from wieghtless snow
brushing from the feet
on the summer air
like childhood
flying
from scarred skin,
every chain
is broken.
it is in a clear night
free
from memories
of shattered frames,
piers at 3 a.m.,
and the hiss
at the end
of a record
written to past;
that the light
of black stars
fades
into stillness -
peace.
at
the
moment,
it all seems -
so incomplete. . .
the sound of branches
snapping off the pale
cloud's breast,
departure
of the gulls
of a season
of love
unfinished.
and yet,
everything
is nothing,
it doesn't matter.
it is a smile,
fruitless
as language
to break the chains,
to shut the distance
from you
to you
into a kiss,
into a truth:
gravity
and flame,
children's eyes,
summer nights,
the life
of birds,
the shape
of hands,
dancing water,
our hearts'
great decline,
anchored
to the beauty
of heaven.
we embrace,
and let
go
of the moment.