It is Before

It is Before

 

Cool spring wind. It is before crickets.
Before the night sit-ups and downward dog.

It is before cobra pose and crow pose, the time
of sky that carries a moth the color of birch bark

To my desk who will land on the rim of my eyeglasses
mistaking reflection for source.

It has the scent of yesterday. It is
before the century I was dropped in the middle of,

before the one I’ll finish well ahead of
its resolution. Before the silence that follows

the wind, spring wind say where you came from
who you woke before me in the native tongue

of her flowers and the throat of her open
windowsill and the hair your whisper shifted

across her ear as she slept? It is before
her I tossed love into the wind like a kite

on a twine of trust, before I lost sight of it,
and still long before I have given it up.

8 thoughts on “It is Before

  1. noir-realism

    This naming and unaming is unique, almost gnosis not in the religious but in the natural sense of naming what cannot be named but only ‘known’.

    Wonderful poem!

    Reply
  2. Dana

    I love the last line and feel like it was written for me, which of course is not the case. But that’s what good poems do to us — they make us feel we are their singular audience.

    Reply

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