Aerial Photo

Barry Goldensohn

Wind and water do this, and snow in sun
down mountains and across the bad lands,
eroding into patterns of the peeled leaf
and body. Wearing stone down,
rivering through rich fields and sand,
scraping land to bare vein and bare nerve.

It was better other times. In winter
with the earth frozen still, we could still
move together; in that silence, live.
But now your shrill voice abrades away
with this flush spring thaw, my skin and me,
and leaves me standing here in my bare teeth.

This is no dream. I am here awake,
eroding as things soften and move-
even marble is driven to movement-
in my hand the deliberate glacier's
gifts lie ready, heavy granite, sharp obsidian;
as they cleave, I cleave, break away and down.