HEAT AND DARKNESS

Encircled in your arms
I am a sea.
Small and far north,
The tiny ship, heavy with flags
Crawls through snow across the dark bed.
Before morning I watch my heart go down.
The decks swarm for a moment, then comes the dark water,
And the radio goes dead.

At breakfast under yellow windows
I sit again in dry light
Your hands,
So thin they look broken,
Holding your cup not quite straight.

I put my ear to your wrist.
Your other voice falls silent.
Who can interpret the small cries of the blood?
In your pulse I hear
The secret place of heat and darkness
The world below color
Where molecules like clear roses
Hammer in the sealed rooms of the skin.