Queer awakenings, etc

Queer awakenings, etc
Who’s to say when it happened,
or how, or why, or that this
cold shock doesn’t recur continually
without reason, without art. Each second
I am reawakening another part of

myself, this body reconstituting its parts
at will. Once I read a story about
a point in the universe where all infinity
may be observed concurrently. Tigers running
in damp green jungle and stone altars to cruel gods,

and storms, and salt, and every book ever written
and all the mirrors in the world. This
would make anyone dizzy, to try and keep
your eyes open to it all at once.
If I could see it all. Oh if.

Still, there you are, where I can see
you, all at once, cold to me still. I love
the skin of you, surface that bounds,
divides, nutshells all that infinite space.
If I could just get under it, crawl in,

walk around. Maybe then I could see it
all, or at least get at infinity someway. I am
looking for the river of all rivers, the river
that is always all water and the same
water when you step in it. I want you

to wade in with me. I want you to
pull me under, arms tight around my waist.
Before I learned to dive I learned to swim
and before I learned to swim I learned
to keep my eyes open underwater,

fighting reflex and nature and acclimating
to the medium, this thing I move through. Now the
technique comes to me, easy as breath. It’s you,
always, your head resting on my shoulder, breaths
moving my body, eyes closed in perfect peace.

               Awaken, love—it’s about time.