O God, it’s so beautiful to see you
I kiss the hands of the one who loves
Me like this. Lagoon-eyed monster – Glory be
Let every March be deleted/obsolete. Save the rain
For a convent of people who believe – Mercy
is glamorous. Mercy is sweet/neat. Time
is waiting for me like the bliss which speaks
Through deciduous things O
God, beautiful to see you like this
Mid-August and the nude Ash cannot be tamed
From history I come [for] your soft hands

Belong to me, won’t you? Glory does
As glory wills. The rain must lust over something.
Me like this. In bed again. Same bed sheets.
What have you got? Forgiveness
has weight and it has to be placed
At the forelock. Me again, staring at glass
kissing the stain on a blouse from our last
dinner. Darling then, eat me up. Darling believe

All natural things are probably, the study of motion
You are my causation I am not still. I kiss
the crisp leaf – that which falls to us/earth/me – kiss
your eyes shut with powdered lips. O
God, is it you? Me again. In bed as December
leans its dark shoulder in. O Seasonal absence,
sycamore sludge. You sail between coasts on a ferry
one by one. Meanwhile there are boulders falling here
O God, to see you speaks/is beauty to me. Open


Variation on Anthony Vahni Capildeo’s Kissing Distance

This is an excerpt from Maryam Hessavi’s Inspired section in Magma 84, Physics



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