Smaller than the piece of lint
she watched him brush off his shoulder,
or the piece of grit
he took out of her eye
with the point of his linen handkerchief,
or the single grains of superfine sugar spilled
next to the Gold Medal Flour
in her grandmother’s Hoosier cupboard.
Smaller than a hadron
and its electromagnetic charge,
or the quarks racing,
their infinitesimal colors
inside it. Quarks can’t be seen
by the most powerful microscope;
they can only be seen in motion.
This is the moment that love starts
and desire.
I am full with Santa Fe and driving
in the mountains. The City Different stands
the moment stopped. But wheels are unstoppable
as the need for movement and summer’s exit.
In the mountains, the City Different stands
carved from stone, shaped by adobe, turquoise, silver as
the moment stopped. But wheels are unstoppable–
drive me as all two-lane roads drive me on their coil and stretch.
Carved from stone, shaped by adobe, turquoise, silver,
the dwellings dwell inside and around the people who listened
to Mother Earth, Father Sky, St. Francis or the sun-capped horizon
filled with colors no two of them saw as the same.
The dwellings dwell inside and around me. The people who listened to
the trail, find me willing to ride with their stories
filled with colors no two of them saw as the same.
As my ears pop, my eyes cannot believe the slopes green or tawny.
For three Septembers I’ve come to let summer go, fall begin in
the moment stopped. But wheels are unstoppable
as seasons. I become a bridge suspended when
I am full with Santa Fe, with driving.
Melanie Perish‘s Passions and Gratitudes was published in 2012 by Black Rock Press. Perish lives and writes in Reno, Nevada and is grateful every day.
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