Contemplating The Heart Of Woman's Man Poem by gregory collins

For D

I fish the sea like a crane who cries.
The soul like a trickle of coins, and they

have no place to go piling up. But these
white sleeves of mine, i will look at them

and remember. I will know who took her heart off,
like the storm has passed and grows further

and further away; and laid herself down
under the flowing tide. Because the two of us

side by side with everyone else in the world,
might just be like moonlight at daybreak melting.

Dripping dropp by equinox drop, and i don't need
a crutch above my bedroom. The plowed fields

are visable, and i am spitting pebbles against a bell.
Not surprised by the fragrance of sound. Not

worried that midnight came leaping up, and
the two of us drowned pillowing. Because

some memories are like this. Shedding tears
slips down of my hand like i rescue a needle

from the ashes, and inject us both on a silver plate.
So neither of us plays lonely spring,

like a saturated scale incessantly calling me
with a large beautiful thing called your soul;

And then there's the parting, dreaming of warm
flowing scattering. Tears shed once again

to unbind themselves in the piggybacked footfall:
In the ugliest of ugly beauty, my whole body with your wings.