By Marc Mitchell
My blood is small like your blood, like the moon
behind your thumb
and my blood glows like the moon with hot
swirling whitecapped rivers of luminescent gold
and copper and iron
tearing at the interior of my body
My blood tides me like the moon
erodes me like the river
and my blood is a symbol of memory like the moon
My blood recalls the past of my life with you
even as I appear
emptiness, a vanished, an echo
My blood recorded our carnal devices
my chemical designs your imprint and your image
remains with me inside of me
I glow at night and I run downhill and one day
I will
water the world with my radioactive moon and
my whitecapping river
We emerged
and there were atoms of light
beyond the pall
and hard breath but not
gasps and through the pall
we ran shoving together through
the membrane and we touched
the atoms of red blue shifting light
Red for acceleration
Blue for concealment
You ceased but I continued
and I have taken another
and we emerge and there are
atoms of light beyond the pall
and hard breath but not
gasps and we run shoving through
the membrane until we touch
the atoms of red blue shifting light
Red for expansion
Blue for contraction
YouÕve become something I cannot touch
a void to the side of the path
And like the moon there is a cycle
We pass beside you again again again
out into the atoms and the light
and sometimes
I want to fall backward into you because
each cycle I think of the moon
and sadness comes at me like
a whitecapped river and the
atoms of light become more weighty each time
I glow at night and I fade in the light
My blood remembers the words and the world
and the way but sometimes it can only remember
you
and the absence of you
Red for escape
Blue for infiltration
Your blood feels like Lethe
is lava and ice and darkness
and sometimes I remember the
light shivering against your skin
the touch of my fingertips along your face
leaving canyons of desolation and desire
My blood tides me like the moon
erodes me like a river
Your blood was corrosive
Red for fractured