rust and stardust

 New York Sonnets I have never been to China, but you pause, asking the price of chestnuts, each eye held loosely in its scheme of home. We knew it wouldn’t be easy. You measured my reach among the fishwives and the fruit stands. This was after the part about trust. How we make these offers, your hand in my hand, some space is filled and is enough, for now, though we look behind us: the street inside the crowd, the risk of pleasure beginning all over. How we stumble forward, hide in the park where men play chess and morning turns over in the heart. It is a clearday. We swallow love. It is everywhere.
ii. The months have not left us, living apart from city to treeline, how do we speak tenderly or not speak at all, the heart has many winters, the earth cannot keep us still. In my dreams I touched you every- where with my lips, and lost my feet in snow fields, and told you a story of safety on Snake Mountain. Now, you seem far, you know where words fail to sound, you know we choose wrong, sometimes, and look away. The mind paces in its beautiful error. We belong near to each other, like this, our faces assigned to see again. My love, the air grows around us, the body wakes, come here.-Stacie Cassarino
Jul 7

New York Sonnets

I have never been to China, but you
pause, asking the price of chestnuts, each eye
held loosely in its scheme of home. We knew
it wouldn’t be easy. You measured my
reach among the fishwives and the fruit stands.
This was after the part about trust. How
we make these offers, your hand in my hand,
some space is filled and is enough, for now,
though we look behind us: the street inside
the crowd, the risk of pleasure beginning
all over. How we stumble forward, hide
in the park where men play chess and morning
turns over in the heart. It is a clear
day. We swallow love. It is everywhere.

ii.
The months have not left us, living apart
from city to treeline, how do we speak
tenderly or not speak at all, the heart
has many winters, the earth cannot keep
us still. In my dreams I touched you every-
where with my lips, and lost my feet in snow
fields, and told you a story of safety
on Snake Mountain. Now, you seem far, you know
where words fail to sound, you know we choose wrong,
sometimes, and look away. The mind paces
in its beautiful error. We belong
near to each other, like this, our faces
assigned to see again. My love, the air
grows around us, the body wakes, come here.

-Stacie Cassarino