- I want to retrieve it for a moment,
hold it in my hands,
the harmony we barter for ruins,
the balance between a baby's breath
and rust in the bones.
I would sail with it for the joy
of knowing the Muse is near,
the strongest link to life in bloom,
not for the illusive signs of posterity,
but for art that rises from sidewalk
cracks like a moonflower.
I will dance within the hour-glass,
fold inward with a storm-sculpted heart,
get drunk on light like the grape in August,
accept the surgeon's knife carving
abstract shapes from my varicose veins,
to feel one last pull from the green kite.
From Learning to Live with Darkness Like the Crows, Self-published Chapbook
© 1997 Duane Niatum
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