And Heaven is Distant

What is it to love--

If not painful and destructive

If not indescribable

Incomparable to the sight?

The lean on the sidewalk 

Dandelions growing 

In cracks, in the dark metro.

Warm skin at first light

Blood on scraped knees 

Something more than human

More than we know. 

As aching often does 

It bloomed one day deep 

Between the ribs--

Pooling in the open spaces 

Shaking the dust off 

So I’d get no more sleep. 

Where there’s handprints 

Pressing into the riverbank 

And footpaths carved 

Over years and years of you--

I found the ground was hard 

And nothing grew.