Two more poems: “Space” and “Two Boys.” The full text for each poem is included below the audio player. Enjoy!
I read the other day
That the human body can briefly survive
The hard vacuum of space unprotected,
And I’ve never been more afraid than I was then,
Sitting quietly at a table, drinking coffee.
I dreamed you and I were astronauts,
Breathing into screens, fingers in padded gloves,
Drifting in the black, until suddenly,
You peeled your suit straight off your arms
And pushed into the dark.
I wanted to reach you on the radio,
Try every channel, all my digital rhetoric,
Just to have you back,
But you slowly grew smaller,
A white star fading from the frame
Until you disappeared.
I wanted more time to hold you in orbit,
To see the constellations
Reflecting in your eyes,
To prove I could protect you
From the cold of this wide universe.
But I was left there, suspended,
Playing over and over in my mind
The singular curve of your hand
As your fingers unwound themselves from mine
And you said you needed space.
Every man is twice a boy –
once, through the swinging years of wildness,
two barrels of bone and breath
in his fiery chest,
hands on the hot road,
toothless summers of
grapes and tall grass,
the braille of bumps on the high dive –
and again, in the final minute,
when his breath stays in his mouth,
and his fingers itch
for his mother