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LAVA
I wake on
the futon,
a stream
of ants shining
to the baseboard from
the cut in my palm.
MOON
moon
From The Blue Rock Collection (Salt Publishing, 2004). Copyright © 2004 by Forrest Gander. Used with the permission of the poet.
Green spring grass on
the hills had cured
by June and by July
An olivine moon. The sum of what
he knows of her is balanced
on what he doesn’t know.
Came home early and caught her
singing in the shower.
His insides stirred as though, for lunch,
he’d eaten sardines and a parrot.
The covenant and affirmation of being
his beloved’s beloved.
But the true explanation of an intimacy
is the duration of that intimacy.
Like an evening coming alive
with fireflies, he feels himself
pulsing from vivid amber to green.
In the city, a weather of zeros-and-ones
cascades through rising static, while here
in this xeric topography, we fold ourselves
into the circumstance of desert foothills
chewed away by leprosies, toothed winds, and
sudden rains. Will you let me
approach you? Bend forward