the poetry of you

sweet subtle asyncopation, systole/diastole,
allegro, crescendo, fortissimo, sforzando!
īamb, anapest, amphíbrakhys, dáctylus

from the backwash, the undertow speaks
it’s slow murmur at the sky,
just before we crash low,

before we’re swept in by the next gale,
hurried by the western winds,
into the slow wet earth,

kept quiet by a passing whistle,
filled with so much of each other, bursting
with all we can share, praying

for any one good reason why, dreaming,
dreaming of what might come by for a while,
to listen in on your moves and meaning,

your height and depth and scope and what’s at stake,
your sight, your might, and your right to be seen,
your light, your honesty, your good work and word

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