The Maynard
Spring 2015

Darkening Over Still Water

Now leaves the light later, dispels the sooner above.
You are still foregone citrus sadder than yesterday.
You reject the piece of my mind that speaks
and the surface of the piece of my mind that speaks
and you reject showing me what can’t be done.

You are before the first moment.
You are nearer and nearer
and you will go to my enemy’s face
and silently be silent about where you’re going.
Scant is the song we meant as softly
and you’ll reject the sound when it collapses.
Found is your flag of surrender.
Your disbelief is slowly lifting,
but lifting lesser, though the sound denies you
and the beloved denies your love.

Your freedom is perfect—
the night is pentacles, pentacles of rapture
and this is how the sound becomes so sounding
and this is how the sound lost its gender
where its saffron eyes swim
its disguised throat eager to trap me
and this is how its thoughts declined
and I’ll just leave you broken
because you’ve always been broken
and have never had the slightest doubt.

Along with devotion, you have whispers. Along with separation, forever.
But beneath—
a cloudbank heals petals
and the yellow grove of summer.