Transit of Nothing
So Venus is running us down with her Love?
I lay on the highway, glued to the sweetness of
Her necessary trail of decay.
Love’s other selves remain behind Her galactical spin,
salving the wounds of cracked hearts, opening
arteries and swelling them in unison, pumping
blood Love blood Love
So this is the Initiation? I’ve read about it.
Forgot about it – and here it is.
No lacy hearts & pretty roses, this one.
Long days of rest so deep it’s death,
arising from a nap as if a tomb
stretching arms in resurrection.
Nothing is remembered, but somehow
I know more about this world.
This body does not control itself.
I follow the coaxing pull of Venus,
its multiplying rules of change, its determined
path to mortality — cracked heart —
If one survives this introspective broken dream
then surely wings will lift us up.
