Imagined body:
pensive, fat-assed,
sweaty with compassion
for all. Real body?
Cold layers like
Damascus steel,
cold eye when turned
toward others’ pain,
cold and round and dry-eyed.
He tells himself
he is nearly one
to his aspiration.
He tells himself
he loves, he is
kind and as free
as his imagined body
imagines itself to be.
He stands in his imagined
place in the world
and tries to occupy it:
stiff, sharp, cold to the touch.
The news is all red
in spite of the daffodils
butting in with green.
All of the new buds
by the lake, showing red first
before they go green.
Old mulch by the walk
is not as red, and it’s cracked —
coming soon, the green.
The news is in red.
The window differs: make room!
Consider the green.
Do you look for red
when you wake up, or do you
only see the green?
Spread red over green,
or hide the red with the green.
The news is on. Choose.
Dark Matter
Dark Matter 