What light there is – wave, a gentle moment. We enter the space without walls, without windows, but with a roof. (We are remembering what arrival feels like in the narrows.) (We are remembering to breathe if little else.) (We were the fattened flesh when the future found itself shut up among the penury.) A lie that feels as flawless as water when it shines under the late moon. But even then we find each other – muted bodies a call across land, across sea. Anemone, kelp, hermit crab, a swift presentation of injury. Keep home on the mind. Fight the body ensconced in a whorl of calcium carbonate. The biggest wins, the meanest, the trickiest, the most relentless. All the minerals boil down to an empty grid. We who will not be contained.
Tamiko Beyer Read Bio Author Discusses Poems
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