Just Now Coming into Being

Let's fuck for seven days, let's not leave the house, let's refill the cosmos with joy. Seams in the air where a hand goes, any hand. A bridge overlooking a slow-moving stream, lily pads with yellow blossoms, people speaking a language I don’t recognize. A feeling I said yes to something long ago that’s just now coming into being. Something pink at the center, tender and generative, lovelier than I can put into words. For what are you using this latest therapist if not to find new threads to tangle? River-smoothed stones. She remembers kissing him on a whaling cruise, one of those afternoon trips from Boston Harbor during law school, it comes up enough, the memory and how she holds it, it makes me sad, and its making me sad makes me sad. This ridiculous emphasis on measurement. How hard it is to imagine all the space in the cosmos, and how this is a kind of clue as to what the mind is and is not. Pushing the writing project to where it stops making sense, starts making something unfamiliar, uncomfortable even. Parts of me leaving, never to return. Shall we call it a day or a marriage? Shalom my dear brother, may the love of Christ confuse the fuck out of you, as it did me, and may grace rest unto our holy sister, in whose arms I am learning at last to be a peacemaker.