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Between Here & There

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for Brandon Goacher

I.
 
Let me speak with expressive
 
hesitation & a feeling for
 
interment why even
 
lineate what isn’t broken by
 
music let me speak with
 
inextricable reluctance.
 
I want to tear the heart
 
from refused convalescence
 
& feed it those long fronds
 
of river bed grass. I want to
 
tear the heart out of style
 
& put it between
 
utter thrall & the infancy
 
of all things impure.
 
Torn out, a flame thickens
 
between us as if
 
not right now we’ll be
 
ripped from this life
 
or each other a white
 
lie not a little more tender
 
than quick. Inextricable
 
reluctance to die or even
 
leave youth culture ever.
 
What a stupid feeling.
 
Do you think it isn’t
 
true? The very existence
 
of flame throwers proves
 
that sometime, somewhere,
 
someone said to themselves
 
‘You know I want to
 
set those people over there
 
on fire but I’m just not
 
close enough to get the
 
job done.’ Someone
 
puts their arms around you
 
in the cold. There’s an al-
 
most disquieting closeness
 
as gossamer clots &
 
becomes an impasto derivative
 
of some newly visible
 
interdependence. Flame
 
throwers then are just
 
a description of prevailing
 
ideology, relics, the life
 
of the party, a soul
 
flirts by burning
 
that name for itself
 
up in jonesing that comes
 
at the end of desire?
 
Well I wouldn’t know
 
about that. A little
 
goat. Why would it
 
nuzzle dreamily up
 
the way I nuzzle dreamily
 
up to my knees. In the
 
‘fatal position’ as my
 
nephew used to call it
 
estranged from play
 
waiting on the fox hunt.
 
Oh baby
 
it beats up my lips
 
the somatic effects
 
of contriving a psychic
 
blockade against death
 
with the contours of your
 
face & healing
 
in constant eclipse
 
where all things
 
inextricably broken by
 
music make the basic
 
rhythmic unit go
 
something like this — I
 
don’t want to loose you. I
 
don’t want to be
 
empty, clever hold &
 
keep you. I was lost
 
to you to start with still
 
I keep on coming back.
 
Do you think you’ll
 
keep on coming back to me
 
forever? That’s the meaning
 
of our life together
 
baby.

Dana Ward, “Between Here & There” from This Can’t Be Life. Copyright © 2012 by Dana Ward. Reprinted by permission of Dana Ward.
Source: This Can’t Be Life (Edge Books, 2012)
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Between Here & There

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