Lines on Love's (Loss*) by Erica Hunt

what we do not dream we cannot manufacture

Art follows ear and echocovers/chooses
selective
eyesight searches the dust
and is surprised by love’s
apophatic blinking

what love sees in daily light
holds open color – ink, roar, melody and quiet
is its own steady gaze
to better endure bumps

“always more song to be sung” between the words
jars memory and its subatomic ______
moving at the speed of thought______

in random thirsts rise _______
name the sensations, ______
to fish for breath, ______
combing through hair as tangled as nets, as _______

thick as the beat of blossoms’ ______

a fine line between mind and senses spinning ______
in which her/my/their body becomes expert ______

without waiting for unified theory,

loving the body of one’s choice and ______

to live so surrounded ______
with fewer asterisks and _______
more verbs and ______
fewer security alerts ______

there eloquence before ______
and above
______ the grave.


*For Ahmaud Arbery, George Floyd, and Breonna Taylor