And So the Skin . . .

And so their pounded hearts were worn— like a badge or talisman, that canceled almost all their blindness— creation's linkage depending on a drive itself derived from a kind of kindness or desperation, the sense that one's inadequate, at any rate the space for time— water has it, flowing (even from a faucet . . .) and here the black swan glides across it— as the sunlight's suddenly on my back, and now the skin along it's warmer, Lord, which lets me walk by the river . . .