Walk (for S.)
Poem
It’s like the face
of water, the quivering glisten
of dusk intimating
little yet all,
at once.
It’s the nape of the breeze,
arcane notes of salt and
aquatica as churns the
Hudson deep.
What is this motion?
This dreamy waddle,
this curious saunter,
as soft feet probe our width, bearing
and lean —
compelled by air,
the heaving and collapse of
melancholia.
How I long to persuade you
with each swivel and whisk,
I am,
and not,
and more,
more than words
and summation,
more than this moment justifies,
because, you,
because —
the music.
What are you?
Are you the moon plotting redemption?
Would you guide your archer
with pulse of flight?
Do you see?
Or hear?
Would you land?
Where is the end of your suppleness?
We are two
and many surfaces
making way indeterminate;
brushing, turning,
nudge, stumble, landing soft;
and I slip into you,
through perhaps,
brace your axis —
and walk.
more by JUN HUA EA
photography by JUN HUA EA
