Poetry: Michael Larrain

Peace

for Wilder Kathleen

God falls asleep in your sleep
and dreams the day that got away
This is how young planets flirt with one another
Here we call it spring
and live on the edge
of the slowest exaltation
The sun comes out
when the dead check their mail
and a petal torn in half
leaves a white line
where the sea used to be
You may feel for a moment
as silvery-green
as a freshly watered plant
and then so tired and so clean
that you can touch
whatever you imagine
and there’s only one heartbeat
between any two stars

High Summer

for Wilder Kathleen

You move through light
like water through a throat
accomplice to every living curve
as though at any moment
you might encounter god
or at least a distant cousin
once removed by marriage
to whatever you last touched
or smelled or tasted
remembered, dreamt, or lost,
Now the peaches are in their adolescence
and the penny jar is filling up
One day is attached to the next
by a spider on the ceiling
The nights grow deeper
the darkness rich
with an untold wealth of daughters
It’s high summer
and we’re all swimming
very slowly
for our lives