All right.
Something lighter.
Some sad divorce poems.
Being alive.
What a mess.
So this is titled "Sighting: Virtue," River Gate Skate
Center, Nashville, Tennessee.
"The man in orbit blooms a heart on his back.
The heart blooms wings of water.
And in me rises not mercy, but a sense of order.
I've drifted.
Loosed from the one who bound me.
A planet with no anchoring star.
And I know this man is neither God, nor sidereal body.
But neither is he a woman with an alchemical heart.
His skin, his beard, his full breast enrapture me.
Draw my gaze from every other whirling body.
I've drifted.
And I know the man in orbit is not a man in orbit,
but one in revolution.
Where revolution means change or a way of moving.
Where muscle ripples to water.
Moves from a state of gold to one of lead."