A Poem: Natus Ex Machina…

I imagine beginnings,

Where word makers harnessed the stars,

Leading up to the two of us.

Now, the Atlantic air lifts the curtains

Up over the indignities of dishes

And unbleached enamel.

Our worn minds and hands

Retrace the contours

Of mountains and empathy.

Softly watching

As crossroads and names

Morph into self,

into oblivion. 

Published in Penumbra 2021