there may be dedications
determined by the disciplinary music
of a looming storm
but what kind of day means
another melodious shift
ive been training my left arm to glimmer
and am already accustomed
to the heat of the forge
yet as for flames i head in all directions
of yellow turning
orange turning
away my gaze
and the watery foundations

but love,
if you were a globe,
i could place a finger
match equator to longitude
then gather the topography
into a fistful of embers

you might have brought the other motion with you
maybe you did draw three broad Xs across our earth

i might have touched fingertip to fingertip

climbed the hill 

and surprised the city

but now
this junction still exists