THE NEW WORLD

​Remembering, one day, all this will end,
they meet up at midnight
 
by the swing set, the air wet with fog.
His hand runs through the hair
 
she hacks off two weeks later, finds shelter
from the cold in the heat of her back.
 
This time, there’s no drunk, driving
sixty in a suburb. This time, there’s no need
 
to say a prayer. She lifts her hand
to hold his face. Her thumb smooths his cheek,
 
his lips. His eyes shut like coffins, hands
tightening on her waist. How we find desire 

in the heat of skin and remember there’s more
than only us and the rust. And life teaches
 
us to defy gravity in favor of flying off
somewhere where skin won’t tear. Oh,
 
but it tears. So let life teach us how to live
in this atmosphere. Let the moon project bright
 
light. Let us collide like cars, but let us go slow,
let us watch where we’re going, let us
 
turn all these tears into something intact.