You make me focus. I’ve never been flung afar
so finely, racked back to touches so sudden.
Close to fear at the depth of veins you make me
mine from within, our eery succession of selves,
our free-fall toward orbit, I revolve around your
opening iris, eclipsing light flickering above us.
Closed from fear like a match whose flare is cupped
from the wind in the hands of our uncanny holding,
we make the walls flutter with our whispers
and whimpers. Together, we come zooming in.
Goes back to a cinematic passion I lived in Montreal in 1975. A rack shot is a continuous take during which the focal point is changed to reveal new detail.
Oddly enough, this poem engendered a recent one in German with the arch title Phänomenologie der Liebe / Phenomenology of Love
geschützt vor Sorge
in den hohlgemachten
mit unserem Geflüster