up and away the sky booms. we crawl from the roof like old baboons. limpid* souls. low and steady. in front of a storm to set a few. i find her. the rain is warm and we run through. we close all the doors. open certain windows, the rain blows round, full blooms.
for every one, there are two.
one becomes two.
three becomes two.
so, to one again i say:
Two
memory: down between me the cello booms. too true for this time of in-between light.
before the sun rises
in the back of my ribs
i feel its boom
not soft
but gentle
fine curves
sound
indigo blue
thick fumes
wave from its mouth
the sun blazes
if only it were in view.
when i die
p[lant me w a treeling
and watch me grow
no casket
no flames
only soft brown soil
give me the ground when i go
to feel the falling snow
to feed it is it grows
to provide air of flow
i am a tree
bowing for every one.
for every one there are two
i dance with you
held close and then let go
in-between
open and close
up sharp
around the edges
round, full
dance with me slow
until i go.
-nicole garlando
*limpid souls added two weeks after i wrote this poem during esri2021. today i came across the use of limpidity by andreas weber, also in reference to baboons, in the book “matter and desire”.
Cole G 