Damn of Consciousness

Damn of Consciousness

Its gray,
     cool and lazy
                            4pm embryos of winter

the birds don’t let your presence
get to them
they know
there is enough
room on the earth (we do not)

                     unfold our arms

and you
anxious and your lips
reminds me
how I’d forgotten
hungry elbows
embracing the blue ache
my yellow eyes

sometimes I don’t understand
quietly rushing
you say “I’ve exposed so much”
but when I watch
things are much deeper
and I feel the weight of it
four walls
                   your nightmares

I don’t want to move
either hand
this morning
                         sleeping with you against

the radiator
waking heavy
pale open thighs yours
are covered with patterns
from crumpled sheets

we undo
your hands expose
           weeping tiny holes

I couldn’t say
what it is, the yesterday
that prays inside us
the worn blanket
or tomorrows under the single light bulb

its things I see
   and I’d like to keep

                    someplace close

to forgive myself
if it ever mattered
                                immersed in all this sky

to gasp
and touch the waves of air
or return to where I was born
over so many moments
cutting open
                  it shakes

                          itself clear

that man over on the bench
transcendental sounds

          it reminds me of these

small glories.