for weeks at a time i am convinced the gold bells ring from the other side
afloat on sea wind,
they drop bigger than dimes taste heavenly as sacred fruit dish

of soft, the sweet the bitter
ephemeral light pause, the delight of air

at once inside immense, the exalt plum of
quietness
the warmth, the tenderness wrapped round
the shoulders of air aloft off
my back lightening my load
wrapped round my out back garden
hedge, wrapped round my monument, my
bootprint, my city blueprint
iron fenced,
breath

my body and body’s body, my home the mist stew thick
chesapeake,
her moan

The moon makes mistake and asks. The city kneels
throbs I take her back, nod
she paces the witnessing pace
the witness the looking
her light blinks twice
electric booking
the air
baltimore, my crown is empty
still i take the
january greyness across the skyline
absence there,
the eastbound beltway out a different

direction somehow than the bay bridge
it arcs its line i reconcile
from here

across time
the gold bells
deposit in

the
wind