movement in f major: allegretto

canéla analucinda jaramillo

 

Something shifted -- the angle
of walls, perhaps a quality of

light, or a heightening degree
of warmth. Something became

slowly distinguished, notable
as a burst of ripening. In that

moment, a fresh impression
seared -- a need to score the

softened flesh, inside wrist to
elbow, stung beyond incident,

into faith, against the roughed
clearing above my bed. Held

now, perilous mercy, the initial
marking of your ties to earned

mastery bonding a stillness in
me, incautiously measured by

quickening exhalations -- and
coming to, coming for, this first

drenched mendicancy of pious
yearning. I arrive, a silent choir

affrettando moderato, metered.
Here. Take how you permit me. 

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