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.
