Liberation Two
       

Vapor is never itself these days,

clouded in streetlight and eyeing
a gutter and star,

dying both ways in a breath.

You and I trudging up cobblestones,
London like ruin,
a formlessness thought,

you and I dredging up stones.

And once there were oceans
violent inside us,

since we would not tear or cry ourselves open

we got fat and tired and dreamlike.

I am high as a kite right now
hit a snag in a tree,

the boy I was holding me gravely,

a gutter or star.

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Copyright © 2012 David Kutz-Marks All rights reserved
from The Carolina Quarterly
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission