if i were a key. if men were not quiet, exactly,
but still. if something small named sacred stayed
by my side. if i knew holier eras like a friend,
a crane, a coconut. what i split open could heal.
if time was not a cosmonaut. not nationed.
unappointed, slivered infinitely into reunion.
i would unearth a softer blade, cut tunnels
in dead wood. count every lizard. lose sleep
to see the sun rise over a very old catastrophe,
say what i mean: dear father, cousin, beloved,
still living. wake up on a wetland, bleating.
conditions under which everything might be different by Kristin Lueke
$20.00Price
