Saturday, November 28, 2009

IF IT IS COLD THEN IT IS COLD

Your description of the ocean floor
from outerspace did not make sense

I thought it would be beautiful. It was not
I raised my arm and scattered a cloud

I cannot imagine how hard it is to die
without ever knowing the pulse of morning

I still search the night for teenagers
to corrupt with my still-held anger

and when I am finished I will finish
and the Finnish will continue to fin

the fish at the bottom will continue
the game of “let’s see who can hold

our breaths the longest.” Our feet
the only thing touching above the mattress

our unit: the measurement of us
the touch of touch that is