In sum
E. Fleischman
i.
My flatmate drove back to Arizona
to gather belongings
and to sample the taste of good-bye;
old times recalled with friends,
the eyes’ strange shadows.
I’ve loved the familiar distillation
of a tree-lined lane, the drunken feeling
it leaves in my eyes,
the frozen feeling of what is recognized.
(I write this on the train.)
ii.
A woman i met dancing sings an overt song of fate.
I was born with my heart’s weight
on my eyelids. She too was playing with the idea
of love in a spacious garden. There is a stream
which smells faintly of smoke or
the soured honey she sips sometimes.
We defy, like dams, the torrent.
We are built, i believe, to be overcome,
to have the waters of the holy flood
drown us in unquenchable flow.
iii.
There’s a children’s book about a mouse,
beginning with an A.
As the mouse community
gathers food for winter,
one mouse
gathers lights and colors
so in winter the mice can dream together
of summertime.