The Book of Daniel
Your mother never called you Danny,
Her long cherry hair adrift on a sea breeze,
Brushing against your bronze face
In that bent photograph,
Everything softened in the sodium light,
Even the detachment in her voice.Your first wife never called you Dan
In your steel blue Armani chalk stripe
Too exhausted for conversation
As you stumbled in late from work
To the anesthesia of quick, efficient copulation.It was always Daniel,
Biblical, unalterable, muscular.
Daniel of the labyrinthic hemlock forest.
Daniel of twilight stained glass intercessory,
Daniel of ashy volcano rain and night blindness.
Daniel of darkening angels.I ride to you on moonlight
Through the gap in the uneven new curtains
Purchased after the fire.
There are some things I think you should know.
How many hurricanes will come this season.
The number of sea shells
That will fit in the cup of your hands.
The boiling point of tungsten.
How velocity relates to time
In the calculation of displacement.
The distance between lo and Ganymede.
The brightness of Bellatrix.
The shape of things to come.
The most likely method of suicide
For a person with an I.Q. exceeding 140.
The lowest level of earthquake
Which would wake a sleeping dog.
The gemstone beneath Europa's icy sea.
What a terminally ill blue jay will do to hasten death.
The distance between you and me.
I could never touch your face again;
Such is my fear of flying.
Seems unlikely what you're telling me,
Mouth such icy ghost grey,
Remember the bitten plum of your lips,
Honey scented candle glow of September,
The grapefruit, burnt pine and clove
Of your fingers on my tongue,
Just close my eyes,
Replay the sound of your voice breaking,
Meet you backwards in time,
When the crack above your bed
Was the crack above mine.