With Love These Floors We Rise Upon

Photograph by Jose Padua
With love these floors we rise upon
are the juncture of avenue and street,
the gray wing moon that settles
like a cave on the landscape,
the tunnel we move with our fingers
before we enter into it, the green
that spreads its carpet over all the cracks
and splinters that spill onto it during
the day, and the train that carries us
from the station to our cars before
we drive off into a maze that grows
larger and larger the more lost
we become. But we live not only
these slender lives, nor are we simply
stars or dust or film about the edges
of a dirty spoon on a plate in the kitchen
sink. We drop pens and pencils and
electronic devices with glass that
shatters; we survive with more when
less is what’s beautiful; confuse wire
with word, bear witness to fabrication
and stay blind to everything except
what’s dying or dead, jotting down
the numbers until it’s time to lie
back in sleep. But the plus size angels,
plump with loving not with integers,
who tread water in the evening on the
other side of the lake, are holding
dandelions in their mouths as if to say,
risking bombast, absurdity, and utter
failure: don’t walk, run, fly, or swim;
be beyond these motions, be over
with gas, oil, and electricity, be
a portrait of a fire’s blue that burns
farthest from center, be almost moving,
almost dead and nearly nothing, but
never be done and never be complete
like a building when man or woman inserts
the final brick in the high wall above
its foundation. Be here with us now.

-Jose Padua

Photograph by Jose Padua

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2 responses to “With Love These Floors We Rise Upon

  1. Great one Rx P Dua Great for the season and anyone past the age of ten with a soul !

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