Sunday Scribbling #166: Soul Mate

The Nile Has an I

Saturate the nature of this one who
Cannot escape the visible, the ancient
Eye that shatters (and glimmers) with a velocity
Approaching your measure,
Your size 7M leather shoe that walked through
A peace not yet descended, lost
In the outer reaches of virtual
Solitude, a condition the opposite
Of which only a sole-maker in Rio

Might fathom, a step up to the heart
In transit, the transferring flight booked,
The cargo bay filled, so only Christ on his
Big mountain would have the handicraft
Necessary for an altered state,
Altared not by hesitation,
But by the kind of textual
Analysis only 2 bodies
Can bring to bare, bare like the foot that embraces

Heaven, that holds a boy's attention,
Anchoring the peasant memory
Of lines rehearsed in the calling of heartstrings
Played soft and low into midnight,
Into your blushing fervor, your blackbird
Eyes, your X, your why, a previous absence
Now held dear, a feast of monsoon
Proportions not even Babette in her
Riversteerage could identify the depths of.

[Yes and yes and yes...]