Spectral Bodies

Somewhere between
Ape and alien we spin

Back to back, awkward
Spindly circle of arms.

We dance the blind axle
Of space. It has no body.

We turn seeking the other
With the oldest eyes

We can muster, primate,
Gape-mouthed with sight.

Our ancient brows jut
Wonder, lean far back

To touch. Before losing
Whatever footing spinning

Allows, our crowns
Make a bridge. A body

Crosses—light, love, dark—
Bigger than we are.

It doesn’t need legs
To travel very, very far.

2013

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My Mothers Wait
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Mother’s Day Poem

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