Johanna

 

When you come you are the rustle of leaves

tuning the distance, the rhyme of songbirds

and windwhistles, the arched rhythm

of bowing branches.

The sound of silk sliding

to hardwood—there is harmony to you

like the assonance of spring song

as it serenades the day and disappears.

In that way I wish to make you move,

pass through you. Be as porous,

accept and use me. Dance.

 

The stretched neck of twilight sees that paths

of evening passion are wayward, that accidents

are afoot. There is riot in night eyes

as sunset loosens vision, released

and rushing outward. Join me

in a bending

 

the way a falcon slams the sky,

the way this dark propels itself

to stun the earth in heavy rattles. Like them,

I want to jar you, hurl toward you

with that dispatch,

that complete collision.