Stairtown

I have felt small
and cold

A tiny man
with blue kisses
climbing the lips
of an ice-cube tray

Always down
identical chambers

But now
in part of you
I am large
and wet with dreaming

I have taken the nights
of digging for the sun /
of digging in my arm

and started to fill them
with deep, stretching joy
that grows from the light
you say is in my singing voice

My sadness, I have spit at her
from inside you
from over this shoulder
with wine on its breath

and halfway down
a staircase
that leads into the river

This is my baptism

These are your hands
that move me
in and out
of water

12 comments

  1. Jeremy Nathan Marks

    The image of your baptism down a staircase leading into the river is superb.

    This entire poem is insouciant. I find that going back over it again it becomes more and more arresting, how you can see your baptism while close to another, in a moment of intimacy.

    I am quite impressed, if I may say so.

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