Brooklyn hurrah

Brooklyn hurrah

How many dawns ?
         How many bridges ?
I had not thought
         the earth contained. . .
From his window
         each morning
apparitional
         the waters that lead
out to Liberty’s torch
         and the thrust
of the bridge
         into space

Scuttled out of the subway
         at Jay Street
in Downtown Brooklyn
         heat leaked from the sun
bought water
         with a ten dollar bill
brisk stride
         infernal heat

harp and altar
         of womanhood
fused fury of the night
         condensed
in petty eternities
         in the sleepless
curveship
         of love

each day a discovery
         a caravel
a caravan
         the gleaming mail of the river
discoveries are our exile
         the ageless hue of her eyes
and my bewilderment

the deepest fathoms lie
         in her flesh
a delirium of jewels
         the strands of our parting lives
woven as cordage
         across the bridge
the lanes of death and birth
         eddying breath
man’s parable enchained
         to the sepulchre

O for a needle
         by which to steer
the dark amplitude
         that time explores
free from the toil of heaven
         from the slash and burn
of discovery
         O for a shore
beyond desire
         beyond beyond

John Lyons

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