Star Transmissions
I remember days when
you flowed like a river around
me, arms dangling through
Thames and Seine,
Out to oceans, seas beyond,
horizons we could tell
from each other in mystic mist,
would be severed one day.
Soon, you’d say, we’ll go on
journeys separate, taking twenty-three
grams with us, as much old film,
phonograph recordings as we can carry.
I looked back to calm when
we traced, paddled all this way to
arrive at the cross station,
Soaked and ragged to bone,
marveling, still mouthing
the winter white hymnal,
Holding you against the pitch sky
as sparks faded.
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