Thinking of You at 2 AM

The stove clock is still off by an hour

despite the fact that it’s been a whole week

since daylight savings time.

A baby water moccasin darts

across the foot of God without much thought.

This is still a city. Where your arms meet my waist.

Where the river bend meets a bus station.

In my dreams, you are pressed against my back. Loving me fiercely.

The past is a shroud I carry through wet southern streets.

It’s not you that needs letting go.

When you speak the world is still.

When you speak the restless brambles bend back.

I am the god of war. Even if that war is me.

You have to keep me at the right distance.

Which is unfair. A bit like heaven if you ask me.

Is this a test? Sometimes I wonder

what’s between the teeth of knowing.