This morning the universe steeled itself
for the unbreakable actions of an hour.
There is something inevitable, like space,
that atomizes in all my capillaries; something
like (who), something so good I am afraid, sometimes.

Look, lets make our plans, so that (and this 
would be the only why) if I am too afraid
to do what we must both do, at last, then
we will have some safe activity to lean on,
when everything bleeds up into the sky.

There is too much amazement in this:
and you refuse to admit that you have read
these poems right, I think? There must be some trick.
No! I promise: it really is just this. Me, lying in the grass,
stretched for the maximum contact with the sky.

You. All the atoms in the universe. Everything.




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