Being Is The Opposite Of Exercise Poem by Medha Singh

The Sun
is a great swelling
candle
up ahead.

The Moon,
melancholy, bright
lucid, bone dry
uncomfortable
with intimacy

The Firmament,
translucent
veil to the oblivion

and trickster-

tempted us to fly
and remind us
we're only wandering
fluctuating
guilty

nowhere
anywhere

The Earth seems almost done
(with all and sundry)

The Birds:

sinuous energy
let loose in the blue
tied together
at their claws

take flight, ascend
migrate, and portend

The Bees,

glittering evidence
(amid lithe moments
of the day that appear
clear as quartz)
of theft as natural.

suckling

petering out
of our lives

Your Skin.
Always like another's, no doubt

Mother,
unraveling
igniting the hearth

Father,
colluding
with the universe

I
augmenting
quivering
finally

enter the light