from “Common Time”

93 chris pusateri from “Common time” There would be a pistol loaded with our dreams. We would enact a massacre by shooting people with those dreams, and like heroes in the movies, our revolver would never run out of bullets. I ache in Maine, its green waters and tiny whitecaps so unlike my deposits but the movement (perhaps the way I wish to move might resemble in tonnes the way the water shuffles toward shore where it argues with itself before retreating. Some things we cannot recognize as nutrients, There are symbols & sheets & days made blank: Its salt, residual. Like licking the hand of a lover after it’s been inside of you— you learn something that way, though you may not want it. CRSUM09 poetry.indd 93 5/22/2009 12:37:04 PM ...