Exactly what does it take to have grown
from being a camera to being a gun?
Way down below the ocean is where
I want to be, in analog with the air’s
crack: a chemical burn, tubes of wee
explosions. What if little by little
we never meet again? In patterns, linked
like birds, parallel or out of sync.
Just hang on. I’m always on my way to you
as if the hundredth meeting could undo
this harbor gone rusted with birds
left to draw circles of caws into words
you’re spitting like teeth not pearls
or promises, just something you said.
Maggie Golston is a poet and songwriter from Tucson, Arizona. Her work has also appeared in Ploughshares, Spork, Sonora Review, and on Kore Press. Her album, Spaceman, was released in 2005. She teaches writing and humanities at Pima Community College in Tucson, Arizona.