Diving For Money

(From The Holyoke)

The coin cuts
the air and leaves
its fast trace of light.

You must never move
your eyes from it:
thrash with your hands,
your feet, watch

how it enters among
the grains of sunlight
splashing on the flat water.

The water pushes you up,
the air in your lungs
makes you fly
here in this green world
you fight to stay down.

Your hair rises like the soft weeds,
your hands cup
in rigid prayer,
your heart falls to your throat
and sings, Breathe,

as the thing touches your skin
and your fingers close
around it.

How the surface is like
a perfect sky
when seen from here,
how you rise to it
on your beating legs.

Over and over
it is all there for you,
all you could ever want:

They reach into their pockets
and stars fall around you.
You scoop them from the world
while the quiet longing

comes to you, aching deep
in the lobes of your chest

 

 

More Poems from The Holyoke

Ernestina The Shoemaker's Wife
Leaving Pico
The Old Country
Torrão Natal
Largando o Pico