In the mirror-maze

Like love, I need this sunlight.
Like arms around me, I need this thunder and rain.
I need this storm of noise like I need to breathe.

Like anticipated lips, I kiss
       these wet stones gleaming with a blue dawn,
       these diamonds in the dirt,
       these nightingales.

Like eyes locked on mine,
       this constructive engagement,
       this desert wind, this evening of silence,
       this morning of crows and magpies.

Like hair under my hand I feel
       this sweet slow susurration, spiked
       with spice and smeared with honey, stabbed
       with lemon and scattered
       by looking-glasses…by a mirror-maze.

Look at the floor — it’ll be OK.
Keep your gaze on the vinyl.

When I pray,
when I face that way and put
my head on the floor,
when I drink
the ritual drink,
when I sing the hymn,
when I breathe…

In the mirror-maze, I meet this sunlight.
Like a new train on a new line, I catch
this thunder and rain. In the mirror-maze,
examining my lips and eyes, checking my jacket,
looking for traces of these wet stones,
these nightingales.

In the mirror-maze in the long tunnel in
the nightplace of Dali and Magritte in the storm,
flung by the whirlwind, given
to crows and magpies, smeared
with honey, in the mirror-maze.

Look at the sky — it’ll be alright.
Look at the clouds — they’re still here.

Heartbeat in the mirror-maze:
hooded, black-clad, shaded,
red and powerful,
full of carolling magpies,
full of clouds,
full of this sunlight.

Don’t be afraid.
Give it all away.
Give it all the sunlight and all the thunder
and all the nightingales you have.
Give it to the mirror-maze,
let the mirror-maze duplicate it and send it everywhere.

We’ll all meet there in the middle of the mirror-maze,
up to our ears, smeared with everything,
stabbed by black beaks of magpies,
bleeding all over the sky,
blurring the glasses with beautiful blood,
throwing it all away.

Where did it come from, this sunlight, this thunder?
From the blue and brown eyes,
the connected fingers and feet,
the wet stones of the street and the river —
from the foundation.

Like love, I need this sunlight.
I’ll see you in the mirror-maze.
Look at the sky — it’ll be alright.

(First published in Fieralingue)