the big tornado

18.

During the big tornado, one edge of the city kissed
another edge of the city. I was pacing Narragansett at
night, restless, searching for you in every lighted
car that singed past me. Because the houses in Lorain,
Ohio, are so squat, so sprayed across an earth
thoroughly immersed in August, there was always enough
sky to see. I grew used to being alone.

I could have used a balance (you) to measure my
trajectory, my velocity there. One edge, in our life,
kissed another edge; you and I, honey we folded
shadows and chiseled swatches. Some thought us coiled
grammars, then. Everything happens was what did. I
suppose now friction itself is an imaginary fire, as
beautiful and unexpected as life-boats sprouting from
ululations of the lake.

Flowers were just a gesture to you. What you couldn't
take was my presence, so far across those waves, only
perceptible via the threading of my cries with those
of the night's wind. You must have grown strange in
those shadows never reached by touch, paler than
anonymity. If you were here now, slipping down
Whispering Pines Drive, I would try to solve the
riddle with you. I would dirty myself with try.


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NEW!!!–Dirty Milk–reactive poem for microphone http://www.lewislacook.com/DirtyMilk/

http://www.lewislacook.com/

tubulence artist studio: http://turbulence.org/studios/lacook/index.html








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