Apr/May 2008 Poetry


by Jami Macarty


You cross there      along a great circle
The full moon gathers footsteps from a stone
At night the same gravity defines
Absolute silences between oceanic miles

By the time the wave replaced itself
as in passion
      or the shell split
a scar made of sand in the palms
      exactly like wings

Again in April
in shapes of warped puddles
      absence too full

At last small arms fire
      ricochet into our retreating

The stars seated in the dark
pass our lives across the table

The small door of a dream
all night remorse before erosion

I dreamed invisible a hundred places
Time is not the arcing of two people

Like a sleeper I
Witnessed a woman being torn from her bicycle
That woman no longer blackbirds


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