this is a poem, just to say

i am in the place where 

today is tomorrow already

 

the ground sways only

when i wish it to

 

the blood still rushes

through my temples

 

my sinews of my legs have grown 

strong and straight

 

my teeth are set clean tombstones

my eyes are rosary beads

 

and mama is here too.

 

 

the fireplace stones 

are warmed like leather in summer

 

the grass is cool and stains my knees

when i wish it 

and like a great fine faux mink 

in easter pastel green 

when i do not

 

the peaks of the russian onion domes

with their unreachable guardrails

i leap and stride atop them

and the streetdancers

they toss their gold up to me

 

and each invention and far-flung mountain

i may mold out of cloud dust 

with bare supple palms

and

with my new strong sinews

i handcraft and ascend 

rope ladders of my own black hair

 

and mama is here too

 

 

at the top is tomorrow 

and below is you

and love,

 

 

mama is here too