the errant
Already gone always. Already gone
into that twilight that opens
love. Only love opens
that twilight.
That twilight. That only. In silence.
For silence that only will
open. This
mouth without why.
*
Yet receiving without yet. Receiving leaves only.
Ungathering shadows. Ungathering nothing
with nothing. Conceiving.
*
For nothing already loved always.
That nothing already loved always.
Becoming for nothing that nothing.
Becoming already. Loved always.
*
As grace abides only. As only
that silence. That silence abides now
without why. Where
twilight is never. Is never begun.
encounter
Beloved your touch is one. Only as twilight is
namelessly. Only is hidden. Within is yet
gaping yet gaping
yet burning. Within
as one knot of breath undone is
suddenly. Swallowed
so softly by rain.
tryst
Within us you only you whisper.
This wet flesh of rainlight
descending
through duskfall. Your touch comes
as suddenly. Lavishly as if
this moment still
only ungathers.
Enflames now as rainlight. As smokelace. Your thorns
fill our throat and we
swallow. This moment which
opens. Still
opens more naked than ever.
Already effaced now. Already this shimmer of
smokelace. Already this
whisper which evermore
traces the breath of
our excess. Already
our excess.
—
Andrew Maxwell is from Bucks County, Pennsylvania. His poems have previously appeared in antiphony, Image, Colorado Review, Lana Turner, Conjunctions (online), and elsewhere.