Prologue: Love Poem in the Black Field
somewheres, some lifetimes ago
I have run so far, so long.There is nowhere I haven’t beenBut here, in this field, a bodyLength from the ragged brinkThat gives way to forest.I collapsed here, the thin, hard slipOf me whittled at both ends.I want badly to brave thisAloneness—now, as the hoofbeats swell,Like a whip welt, around me—But I cannot. I weep for you,Clutch the hogweed, imagineIt your wrist. Likewise, the stalksRefuse to bend, even slightly, insideMy balmy grasp. O my savingGrace, my heart’s restharrow, mereThought of you dams the ploughsThat would have my head.When you arrive to pull me upFrom the mud, the salt will crumbleFrom my eyes; my eyesThat, for nights, have seenNothing, save that cardinalNorth from which the stars beckon;Those stars that, like you, never…
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The American Poetry Review (Digital) - 1 Issue, November/December 2023