Against Nature

Against Nature

Against Nature 150 150 Akharla Mova

You are a monsoon that everyone sees on the horizon,

And underestimates. “How bad can a little bit of water be?”

The natives are running. My heart is running, burrowing like a hedgehog into my spleen.

My feet stay planted on the ground.

Personal, Poetry/Prose

I want to live inside your voice,

Inside the guitar string strung by your hardened prints

And spend my days vibrating with lids barely alive,

Falling into dreams inside a sound like love feels.

I want to take the train today,

leave the city streaming behind me like a plain

that doesn’t know it turns people into chaff,

Discarded by the wind, not kneaded into the warm dough

with your troubled knuckles, with nicks near the nails.

I want to plant a garden, and rip it back up,

Wake up with a bee buzzing near my back,

Get caught in the drapes and sigh open the shutters.

Hear them bang against the peeling siding,

reach out a hand and pick a cherry from the apple tree,

and run to the outdoor dunny

in the morning mist.

I want to push at your skin until the wrinkles

iron out, like a dress shirt pulled from the floor.

A reverse living of every day so we can live

every day over again in just the same way.