It Could Be Would
she was a salamander of the sun
an enraptured reptile of the stars
dancing with the other campfire lizards
in the asphalt murrain
in the technomarshes
in the hookah parking lots
and mildewed shopping malls
on the internet
amongst the programmer punks
and hacker geeks
the tweeting tools
the facebook fools
sashaying through cyberspace
and in all the common places
where human hearts are liquid nitrogen
her belly is sparidged and maplemarvelous
the taut black knit tubetop
stretched acrylic over tantalum breasts
the cerise cutoffs born
broadbelted and blithely
clenching her pomegranate cheeks
piebald with sweet sweat
appaloosan with her own sweet waters
because a culture summer is coming
in
in Coddles Harbour and Port Hilford
in Manchester and Fox Island
a magnetic renaissance
coming in ike a lion
like a lizard loaded indigo
and heat desperate
and as he stood
and watched
"all states, all princes I."
and as she moved and sang he spoke
"Love.
There is no 'love'."
"It is true. It is true."
I cannot clutch the tongue
of bones commonwealth any more
nor catch any human kingdom here
any tenderness no longer
moats between us
it is occupied
shocked
by the ordinary
the commonplace
by the electrical
but
still
I am mad ensieged
with her
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