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Meeting
The depth of this is not
ephemeral
is a knot of purple
staining the heart in
the coroner's gaze
is the sound of pleasure
put in your mouth
in the conjunction
of two bodies
in a dark alley
of good fortune where
that heart beats
out another night
in another life
in yet another town
--from With Naked Foot
Miriam Atkin on "Meeting":
Memory of missing conjunctions is in shapes of the body. How deep is the meaning of a particular conjoining? Wounded organs, sounds put into mouth, and conjunctions are of a family. Heart beats on a night. Sounds are put in mouth. The meaning of one meeting differentiates from the sequence of things. It refuses to participate. It is where everything else is not.
*.*
I have a poem appearing in the new issue of Poiesis
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