Prologue: Love Poem in the Black Field
somewheres, some lifetimes ago
I have run so far, so long.There is nowhere I haven’t beenBut here, in this field, a bodyLength from the ragged brinkThat gives way to forest.I collapsed here, the thin, hard slipOf me whittled at both ends.I want badly to brave thisAloneness—now, as the hoofbeats swell,Like a whip welt, around me—But I cannot. I weep for you,Clutch the hogweed, imagineIt your wrist. Likewise, the stalksRefuse to bend, even slightly, insideMy balmy grasp. O my savingGrace, my heart’s restharrow, mereThought of you dams the ploughsThat would have my head.When you arrive to pull me upFrom the mud,From my eyes; my eyesThat, for nights, have seenNothing, save that cardinalNorth from which the stars beckon;Those stars that, like you, never fadeFrom sight, even in the day—Blue sky. Then, for weeks,Unspeaking, we’ll follow their call,Afraid to make more soundThan does a mothling upon her firstAnd final embrace with the openFlame for which she confusesCaged light. Such silenceWill we keep that I’ll believeIt is the river who thanks meFor our crossing, and not you.
