timothy clark - poem


Elysium

I.

We purged the silver linings from
the air above, brushing them away 
like the thin pink rolls left behind 
after the purging of other ideas from
filler paper. 

We were the property of the land, each of us
licking the ground in supplication 
for its blessings, each of us hoping 
for the womb to bear fruit.

We omitted the time of waiting
for our stone god to speak.
We petitioned directly
the sand we tread upon.


II.

She poured out the sand,
kept in her fist 
as memory
(ever prepared for the day of its winnowing),
and struck her tooth against silver,
demonstrating the sole method
of divining a flawless pitch from
an unsuspecting accessory.


II b.

A wound in the firmament
poured the waters above 
upon the waters below.


III.

Her ankles swelled
with the weight of innumerable grains, 
each added as time grew upon time,
her past easing back
into obscurity 
and rarity. 

Each flex of her fingers sent across
repellent posturing and made the screen
violent in flung and dying electrons.

Each nod of her head spilled forth fine powder, the quantization of memory.


IV.

The drift velocity along copper wires 
of law-abiding particles was the inevitable consequence 
of a detailed transformation, her emotion
discharged through external filters,
a smile unfamiliar as life itself.


V.

She wrote about the low-slung heavens, 
jeweled swords, 
        and occasional disappearances. 
She murmured silently in binary digits 
and propelled electrons dancing in step-ladder potentials. 
Orion's belt, I recall, 
seen in winter months, and hidden 
                        beneath the horizon the remainder of the year, 
was the string of pearls dropped by God across the nape of her neck. 
High indices of refraction cleaved 
the light which flowed through it 
into countless unnamed varieties, 
each 
   one 
      the hint of her name. 


VI. 

Pressure accreted behind riveted plates of
ferrous embossed metal, the hydraulic
means by which her cargo was conveyed.


VI b.

White noise 
like radio static 
or winter rain
or leaking steam
or wind-blown leaves 
granted solace
from the breathless pursuit
of gratification.


VII.

We cast aside the clouds overhead, 
like the shavings of pine from a woodworker's bench, and threw our handfuls
        of dirt to the ground.

We were the possession of the earth
lined up on a plain
and we were the image of our love
thrown out into the yard,
or burned in an ashtray.

We observed the protocol,
asking of the fire 
before asking of the ashes.


VII b.

An incision in the firmament
permitted the waters above 
to fall upon the waters below.

unframe this page