Samuel Claiborne 
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                                                                                                Milk Drop Coronet - Harold Edgerton, 1937
                                                                                                Back to Poetry

                                                                                                Waking Inside You

                                                                                                First in somnolence
                                                                                                Then in slow surprise
                                                                                                We move as we breathe

                                                                                                Whose body’s idea
                                                                                                Was this anyway
                                                                                                Whose arms first rappelled
                                                                                                Down the slope of whose chest
                                                                                                Whose torso first evoked the
                                                                                                Incurve or outcurve of desire

                                                                                                Whose eyes opened at criticality
                                                                                                Sightless yet sighting
                                                                                                When the geometries of joining
                                                                                                Presented their furtive puzzle

                                                                                                Or was instinct enough
                                                                                                To guide us
                                                                                                Dowsing our mutual oasis
                                                                                                Hidden in our desert
                                                                                                Of petty betrayals
                                                                                                And conscious disappointments
                                                                                                That rule day
                                                                                                And interject night

                                                                                                How did we find ourselves
                                                                                                Battering sweetly through
                                                                                                Down to flesh
                                                                                                Into spirations
                                                                                                Of heat and water
                                                                                                Germinal sweat and
                                                                                                Inheld breath of desire

                                                                                                And now I transit
                                                                                                My dreams of
                                                                                                Flat open spaces
                                                                                                Dry big sky that
                                                                                                Accepts no depth of field

                                                                                                Awakening to swim
                                                                                                Your rhythmic sea
                                                                                                And your fluttering eyes
                                                                                                Startle like birds
                                                                                                Their dawn chorus
                                                                                                Of slow surprise
                                                                                                Launching into my sky

                                                                                                We become a time-lapse
                                                                                                Sleep-lapse loop
                                                                                                Of high-speed rose-openings
                                                                                                Laggard mitosis-quickenings and
                                                                                                Skittish clouds at dead run
                                                                                                Fleeing ravening suns that
                                                                                                Fly to zenith and set
                                                                                                Rise zenith and set
                                                                                                Burning vapor to memory

                                                                                                To come fully awake
                                                                                                After diving miles of sky
                                                                                                And miles of sea
                                                                                                Into a slow-motion splash
                                                                                                Milk drop crowns blooming
                                                                                                In Edgerton’s garden of strobe

                                                                                                Incredulous at our
                                                                                                Murmuring bundle
                                                                                                Of Mobius sheet
                                                                                                And linear leg

                                                                                                I could feel
                                                                                                Can still feel
                                                                                                Your salt mingling
                                                                                                With mine
                                                                                                Two oceans of mass
                                                                                                Lapping an isthmus of muscle