Soft Blows

Here:
Standing on the south pole
braving the 31 below zero
Like paramagnetic slivers
faced with parka-less shivers
after their brief trembling

Iron red, Eyes run redder

You albatross, spanning your global wings
because a thousand miles wasn't enough distance
You albatross, devouring golden calves
guided by the currents and incandescent lamps
You albatross, swooping down the sea-line
baring your teeth at the black and white
You albatross, plaguing the water and wine
because even a blurry view is much too bright

Here:
Standing on the center-sun
sweating anthemic buckets
Like emasculated cloudbursts
losing our shoes and shirts
after a sudden final flare