After Olive Senior, ‘Flying’

By | 15 May 2017

light smoke how to dance
disco ball blocked by bodies
the sun eclipsed by moons
men growing like trees
in this club we leap
we do not look
yet look at me now Grandma
whatever I’m drinking it’s right
now I don’t care what Buju said
or the poet who called me buller
let our republic spread
above clouds—a dance-floor
of dreams
like that time at your house Grandma
when walls disappeared
and he called me into the night
called me through the night
all through the gentle night
call, called to light—this sapwood
this heartwood no nails only bone
empty core mystery bark crackling
there is human flesh in me
in forest we
run deep
until trees no longer have meaning
Hurry up. Rain is coming. Let’s go.
there is a dance better than geography
he is a poem yet to be danced
Lay with me he says after the club
Grandma I’m not sick
I am love
no one tells you
there is no time without man
there is only bliss
we don’t need potions to fly
when we have this

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