There are times when my life has focus,
when my lover finds the string
tying me to earth,
a thread of varying gauge and color,
stretching to the near horizon.
Yet I’m empty, heavy, on the edge of tears,
where depth and joy and pain leak away
(hold my breath don’t breathe I’ll lose it
like the night long ago when I was drunk
and cried helpless helpless).
I’ve become gray and bent,
a twisted structure
retrieved from a pool
of salt juice and steam,
knowing I can’t have the whirlwind again,
that tasty center,
that unknowing nothing.