Brian Purcell #13 Crossing Light

     Crossing Light

Light spills onto my desk

like a possession

I’m not proud.

Papers stir in the breeze

through the window a glimpse

of an eagle’s wings  

catching the same.

I was not proud of your voice

but it hooked

its lovely talons in me

and like a sailor

I moved toward your rocks.

Lovers embrace then part.

Is there an island

that will take me,

preserving my footprints

for an eternity?

Continents drift

until out of sight

on the other side of the world

all that remains

is the jagged rasp of coastlines

echoing each other’s wounds.

I wake to your breathing

or its memory.

You have drifted further

than the other side of the world

I take a breath

and for hours watch

light crossing

the surface of the moon