Without Reins

Sing the way you do when abandon
has just pulled the bit from your mouth
and you’ve begun to dream without reins.

Sing the broken bell of the body
and of the careful hand that palms it,
attempting to shelter it from greater harm.

Sing the failing ring of its last note
and of the ear cupped to catch it 
before it’s gone forever.

Then sing the return, the rebirth,
the orbit swinging around. Sing the bloom
gone to seed, of the seed gone to fire.

Sing again the demise, sing again
the rebirth, sing the emblem of circularity,
the zero completing the round.

Sing the blue-throated love song,
dense jewel of the sun working
on behalf of misted concrete longing.

Sing this, this dark-tattooed work song,
faceted chant, revelation; sing this gospel
of opening, this echo of purest belonging.