- Like Gravity
After 3 measly words: I have decided . . .as if Ben, friend of artificial tearsfor dry eyes, does not have 3of his own: invisible arbitrary alone.
As if Dora has been worn fuzzyfrom wear, has room for real tearsthat roll down Cheek Bone Hill likeadvertisements for pain relief.
As if Ben is to touch as a plant is to light,the involuntary turn toward, the tropein tropism, the more in morir, in paramour,the involuntary turn away.
As if Dora was schooledin imperatives, in the commerce of wantbehind two Kenmores in the famousclothes room school. As if . . . thereafter.
As if Ben lies face down in the grass,a channel for elementals, a cricketwhose wings bring forth no soundbut hunger for any heart seared by fire.
As if Dora floats face up in the air, can dothe dead woman's float,breathing in, indegrees of blue the sky;stillness above, stillness below. [End Page 108]
As if Ben knows enough to singthe unknowing of each pore's hallelujah,a tiny bit of transcendency for the soulto put on loose-fitting clothes.
As if Dora in the next roomis a warm body of water, a smallpond where minnows have family namesand nibble the hand that feeds them.
Two backyard birds are messing aroundshowing off that life goes on,as if Ben and Dora are sitting togetherholding hands, watching how. [End Page 109]
Mark Rubin's poems have appeared in Crazyhorse, The Gettysburg Review, The Ohio Review, The Virginia Quarterly Review, and elsewhere. His first book of poems is The Beginning of Responsibility (Owl Creek P). A past recipient of the Discovery/The Nation Award and a NEA fellow, he lives in Burlington, Vermont, where he works as a psychotherapist in private practice.