Scorpio moon
The dark puts us out
of ourselves. Into each
opening we go filling.
This life an underground
lake. Not clean, but safe
to drink. A key distinction
to make. Remember:
reflection only exists until
light cannot go on.
So faced with myself,
I’d rather look at you.
–
thoughts on lately aspiring to beetles
lifting my body toward the sun
should be so iridescent
–
everyone I love is an animal
and vulture-hearted I am here knowing
the best way to preserve anything
is to leave it outside
–
amateur geology
There is no universally accepted definition of a mountain. So maybe I am one and maybe you are too. I’m saying this because I want to valley you, which means I want to be under you in all manners of landscaping. None of this is easy to explain. I read more on geography than I do on people. Abhorred by the way hands speed up the erosion process, I deign to touch as little as possible. However, I love to talk, and talk I do, mostly with my hands. Listen: if you want to sign up for rock-climbing, I know someone. If you want to visit a valley, I know someone, too. If you want to talk, I have capable hands. What I’m saying is we have no defined boundaries. You make your own. You move your own stones. Leave a little or take it all with you. What I’m saying is we too are growing at less than an inch per year thanks to an effort that is no effort at all.
–
Terrence Abrahams lives and writes quietly in Toronto. His work has been a part of Hobart, The Poetry Annals, Peach Mag, many gendered mothers, the Puritan, Witch Craft Mag, and ZEAL, among others. He tweets at @trabrahams.
