woke up this morning with my shoes
gaping at me like open graves
the tapping of rain on the roof
made a rhythm I could almost feel
this isn’t walking weather
and my feet need to move
restless for no good reason
that bivalve in my chest keeps opening
a mussel gluing down its good foot
so it can rock in the current
I want to go where the river goes
to the sky or its best mirrors
which have the blues too in at least
three different ways
all of which call to me
in the melisma of a mirage
I want the horizon to stop receding
I want forests to reclaim the fields
I want a woman whose eyes
are as dark as the earth