You are a coin I keep under my tongue
in case I get to close a dead man’s eyes.
You are the galaxy’s dense materials
and the pull they exert on my heart.
So soft, you are invisible to touch.
I wish you could come back and rap me
like a wall for my hidden chambers.
I wish you could lick me newborn clean.
Where have you gone, taking your wrists
and the writing across them? Where have you
taken your dark gaze and your moods
turning like stars in the black? I still can’t sleep
the bed’s center for fear of crowding you.
This light’s star is long gone and I have your
sweat in a shirt, sweating body now bone-gravel
and flora. Come back. Sound my deep and I
will fathom you. I want your sinister
yearnings, your villainous deeds. I want your
sky-haunted eyes, in which I burn blue.
I am an angel with flames where her wings go–
love my brazen catastrophe. Lay your
hands on me. I want your baptism,
your Pentecost, your rapture, your return.
– said Rebecca Lindenberg
I am guessing this is for her longtime partner–the poet Craig Arnold— who went missing on the small volcanic island of Kuchinoerabujima, Japan in July, 2009.
Also, see Love, An Index.