Six Urban Love Songs
VI. Help Me
I turned to you as if to say: Push him out!
Touch me with your brave new hands; erase
him from my ribs, from my arms, from my
Let your lips be rain falling on the drought
in my body—
Then I was reaching
(as if I could) and perhaps you were
into thinking me ready to be pulled
away. You wanted me, and I was beseeching
you—Then help me (for I could make no
offer—it was a start—than a promise to try—)
push him out!—but he pushed back and I
and you would kiss and as my eyes grew wetter,
you would know; and become angry and
empty and cold.
What could I tell you—but what was already
The Laws of Falling Bodies, Story Line Press, ©
co-winner of the 1997 Nicholas Roerich Prize. Reprinted by
permission of the author.