running out of light

and clock

but still

but still i have desire and honey

and courage and him

still i have the moon

the ocean

my body

good, soft

my soul

twisted, luminous

and story

and song

all into which he falls:

feathers, webs, hours

velvet and lit

all to which he cleaves

still i have his arms all around me

the current circumnavigating and then

reconvening round and after

as time is, as he says

a crutch

something we’ve all of us constructed

in order to know the unknowable