Birth-pangs, they said... murmurs my cloudy friend.
I look into her tender face... sad-luminous moon
turning her smile toward joy. Something funny
happened today – let’s take a detour round that bend.
She lifts her magnifying glass again. Two figures
in a heart-shaped, lilac shade – at first I thought
Black Elk, MLK? Or Blackstone, Roger? Was it
Whitman & Hart Crane? Or Francesco of Assisi
with his Sienese sis, Caterina? Under the High Line
parkway, in Manhattan – finding a newsmap of the
sky – Wolf Song & Billy, by River 4iver. Eh...
why? I asked. Said she, What’s love? Its sign?
So much pain... where’s the wellspring of sweet airs?
In the rain drops, she cried... I felt her tears.
Eyes, mine, welled in turn. The wind bears, heart
to heart, the swelling riverglory that we share –
your story... mine. She raised the crystal triad
to my eyes again. I saw a blazing yellow star
& one minute black pebble, drifting like a tear
across its face. Looked down to the riverside –
the two brothers still stood beside the Gate –
the whirlmist dissipated... Comes lastful measure
of Mankind, whispered Natasha. Transfigured
here... my soul doth magnify. & then a great
Someone broke through that limestone clay
beneath the Arch... a buried man, like Joseph
from his brothers’ well – like a flowering staff
of almond, out of frozen ground... today. Today.