Thursday 1 March 2018

Snow

for Kesh.

26th - 27th February 2018.

For I have seen love
and his face is choice Heart of Hearts,
a flesh of pure fire, fusing from the center
where all Motion is one.




It started to snow at midday, maybe somewhere after
why there refused to be snow for so many years  and now
it’s hanging in the sky and I came downstairs to see
the snow and I met it with my toes and with very few flakes
at stretches apart and a cyclist glared as I ran after one and the air
was ringing with you, how it impossibly felt like a world under
the hand under the eye and the skin itself was my skin your skin
full of snow and water bumps us up and tossed to the fish
to the porthole. It upended it started it goes out of nothing for
if you, we, claw; for I have seen his face, a voice or that exacting
curve from cheek to eye of in our minds what isn’t
able to go or an unobtainable exit dangling in the sky. To one
another now it is still there the rising and falling the flakes the
accidental winning, remember when we accidentally won the
quiz but we were all and it was summer. And it was still the
end of summer still near enough that it was warm and sitting
outside of it. None of this rising and falling they have now
from Russian air I see the toadstools and the swallowtail and
the ropes and fledgeling bulkheads. Now there is no you only
the rising and dipping motion impossible not to simply stare
and if it is, if there is hell to get into its memory drifts back
and up in the order of relentless suns, waves, portholes,
collapsing into our arms they were waiting for your body’s
commencement in motion, down and outwards your soft
falling body. I want someone like the powder it is up and
varied to come and destroy this collapsing chain of snow it is
how welcome could a thing like this be as it collapsing in pain
and in the light, in the rising and falling light that is coming
in the morning, coming gently onto the surface of the world
and remaining. I want to know that this snow will never
finish until the whole of the world is gone to its gentle
shoulder. Now it starts to go, it’s all melting and all
there is is wanting. Wanting nothing more than for nothing
to ever have to melt again until everything at last is covered.