There’s a freighter riding high, passing between me and Michigan
Steam-on! Go north into the artic creep
We’ll shake the spells from the blankets
And untwist our fingers from around love's throat
To re-animate, in a breath, the spark of action
in the absence of dream

Passions are my interlocutor and they nest in an empty attic
Calling down to their sacrifices, the tumbled basement swell
Blood rising, lake blue, aquatic birds…
I see me in the metal hull and sloppy engine
Served seconds on late watch, witness to the oily morning

Steam-on! to where the water turns solid
Clench it and haul it back
So it can slip
through our fingers



l-a'ro