Dialectic

Brief—bright tongues
held by a bridge

Solar and polite

It does not hurt here

I am a pomegranate
of fixed stars

Each seed—a quiet red pressed into me

Giving homage

To a flicker

To a gesture

Like the way a hand almost reaches

The way a word almost arrives

The way something trembles and then returns to silence

Held by a bridge
I remain

The water below
does not frighten me

It takes everything from me

What is given
What is lost

And does not look back

But I

I hold

I gather

Each seed
A moment
A feeling

I folded inward until it became part of me

And still

I hold

Soft—small lights
that refuse to go out
even when no one
is looking

I stand above it all

Because to live in

The brightness
The weight

Is the quiet proof
that something once existed and stayed

And so I remain

A vessel of small stars

Watching the water
take everything
it is given

Not for release

But for the courage

To let not even one
of them go