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A NEW WALTZ

Dams slide open with the sound of worlds creaking
in ancient wood, dance partners
brush paint currents of breeze
against the arcing walls
they've known to soar up since toddlerhood
the great beyond backwards,
the great below filled up
with rushes of hyacinth and redwood trunks
reel of an old film spooling
faces pressed together in a bulb of owl-eyed light
then into the landscape washed eternal
of images that feel pain and vastly absorb it,
two are twirling twirling
they express the deaths of planets
when they press quietude into round spaces
with their aching heels

Deep in the craftsmanship of richened ages
they met on a long stained bench peeling fruits
the hybrid of which had not yet been ignited,
calling gulls to salt and meat of slender fish
from air's dome of high silver not yet minted
(I know an apartment I entered through money
was once their priceless cave
in the core of a city in wheatgrass
where wood and stone mated
threw open the doors of water stunned
everloving prophecy,
to pierce critics of the ages run down
with movement above time,
swung in the clock's dawn to be caught
before the granite ballroom fades to murk
send your synergy to skies that pinprick skies
and gush us out of history.