by Danti Di Stefano
after Bei Dao
Between me and the world: you are the one
bent note that breaks a chord into that lack,
the longing of porch swings and honey bees,
which is to say, you sail on, long distance,
through the air with sepals as receivers.
Yeah, those sunlight dabs the good Lord flecked on
your nose, dappled on your chest, and drizzled
on your shoulders make me want to holler
hallelujah, talk about black cat bones,
and grab my Saint John the Conqueror root,
which is to say: between me and the world,
you are a nation that twangs in my gut;
you are what rocking chair does to floor board
when a plucked string sets a body to shining.
