At the Table

At the Table

I have written you and yet

I can not write to you now

I can not explain this upwelling

The water behind the dam

The rivers of the days before Thursday

The lines for ice in apocalyptic summers

The memo notebooks for ski jumping and a way in

Dance floor confessionals and green dresses

All of this is scripted like hieroglyphics of timing

Of tales not yet told in wait like slumbering bears

For circumstantial hibernations

Wanting you to know my all of everything

Yet wanting to speak of all things new

With time to see you smile at me plainly

To list the names of your closest friends

Like the letters of the alphabet

Parading effortlessly across my tongue

To see your grade school years in my cortex

Visualized in the extravagance of your retained

Conjectures cementing your civility like road maps

Of how you got to me

Growing like water side irises violet

With a spark of a sun’s kiss, knowing the inevitable

Summer droughts and winter’s hardest freezes

Gripping you in temporal cells of isolation in year’s past

These hardships and beauty unfolding of this world

Around you there on the bank with my ignorance

To your existence shrouded in an oblivion of hope

To your name, path, or petal, resting there in root

Dreaming and moving, skiing and blooming

Spring upon summer all in the glimmer

Of seasons I want to learn like a periodic table

Un-abbreviated into an algebraic masterpiece

Unconfined by logic alone, mapped out in a muse

Of parallel imperfection gracing upon a phrase

I dare not utter to you now

For fear of startling you into entering me into a contest

For Quasimodo out on parade to Esmeralda’s judgments

 

Hope like a pill, blind and bartering between placebo and panacea

To sit at the table and choose between the poison and wine

The color the taste are so much alike, at the table alone

Choosing to drink

In the provocative nature of premature discourse

Unjust to you or I to find solid ground on the movement of these banks

Toward each other yet so much still unknown in the blind eternities of corners

Not yet turned and peeked and sheltering the peace

And my will babbles on that river before Thursday

Mathematically computing the scientific output

Of a current that has produced

This much magnetized inertia reverberating

Through my core in an electric drum beat

And the reservations have set the explosives

To blow the dam and let nature bear her jurisdiction

Naked in front of you without remorse of the bones

Floating upon the surface, marrow cored and

Fractures like road-maps of my every sensitivity

Praying I can uncover the patience for the wine

For the time to riddle the aroma

And you secure enough for the fallout of the explosion’s wake

Praying for you to unleash your own to me