A Poem Recited by God as Best as I Could Understand Her

Sacheon rowboats curled in
difficult strokes, so timid, so elaborate
by the colors of dusk and clouds and entry
like a stolen shuttle that beats out
a homing signal for lost sailors, lost muscles
and joints, celebrated aircraft, like timid
sportsmen remembering the joke, remembering
the solace of grandfather’s voice, not now
not tomorrow, but in the future, he will
speak again

Contagion holds lines so whosoever
to the torch, to the sideboard
and masked matrimony, like tailgate
entropy and stolen wallets on
holidays when the banks are still
open, and the personal values are no longer,
just a dream in the window light
just a fragment blessing on top of a blessing
She draws me near, to tell me
Her story, about the absent time
and the sand under water roots
of stolen portraits of his tall gaze