To The Antelope

I've gathered the remains of my soul,
atom by atom, and what have I found?
Everything present resembles
a cracked bowl of salt.

I practice for the big leap,
my golden dream. Stars!
Close to me because I strive to get above them.

I'm not a scream, or a fire.
It all happens more quietly
if condensed in a metaphor:
How it is to get fat and think
of a boil ripening on the sole
in autumn.

Then they are equally
distant: coffee in a cup,
an antelope, the space above the stars-
each step must make sense because it hurts.

I separate friends from wounds
and save them for tomorrow.
In the meantime I doze in the cradle
which my mother always drags
from room to room, whispering:
Hush little baby, hush.


From HEART OF DARKNESS (White Pine Press, 1998)