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mary kasimor

and there are spaces

between my love and small birds who carry the

note

going into the forest

onto the breathless branches my love for

you

looks high and low

the cleverly shaped lung of sound the heart

of discourse changes and captured

by day and and let go at night

(during the time of masks) propriety explained

until we free ourselves from time past

and future here now against these white

walls and ancestors

no things anguish not sin

nor prayer living in the acquisition of each

other tongue to tongue speaking

in its duality of spaces between

our bodies collapsing splintering into pieces of many

forests

many birds

many voices parts divining an obscure

selection for love spaces between desire

not lost on us