Fars
Prose
Breath pushes and pull-gives and takes; the take it takes. How doesn’t matter, spirit is never done. Looking at you looking back at me, no oxygen left in the room, I won’t understand a world without you in it, you curious gulp.
The leap bones bare honest. We can’t lie to that. Go on, go run down the beach and fill your hair with wind the color of the sky. Let those eyes search the horizon blue, the deep, where we all come from. An old religion, a snake dance with a thousand arms; eating one’s own tail. Soak in the sun like a gladiator taking strength from a stone, cross the threshold home.
There is no I without you. Acoustics shine the dolphin sleek, frisky seamless for each other equal down here with something to give. Displacement is for those who don’t think that. Swirl and run your nose up my spine, kiss my belly with yours, go dorsal. Run me down the fathoms where the light fades and no one can see our pinnacle dance.
It’s not to turn. It doesn’t matter because it doesn’t. We write the page new every day. Pour it out like we know something of the dream. Dolphin paws getting everything wet.
Greater is unfounded.
We do.
Michael Stang 2021
