by Frederick Livingston
which is farther:
Seattle or
my own heart?
some years I visit
the city more often –
once for two weeks
have you ever lived
in your heart
so continuously?
we’re so contiguous
I’d arrive in two
weeks walking
our paved veins far
simpler than reaching into
a cage of muscle and bone…
–
how far to Albuquerque
or a stranger’s heart?
I’ve never been
but if it’s like
any city
I can smell
exhaust
slipping slick
through storm drains
can hear apology
brush past
bus passengers
taking up space
clogged with
rush and worry
–
watch the
people of my
rose petal clockwork
guard the
quivering home
inside them
evade each other’s
gaze while aching
to be seen
circle the same circuits
restlessly for another
flutter of oxygen
freedom
tethered to
one feathered breath
Frederick Livingston is the author of the poetry collection “The Moon and Other Fruits” (Legacy Book Press 20203), as well as numerous articles and poems found in literary magazines, scientific journals, and public spaces. He grew from the southern tip of the Salish Sea in Washington State and has followed a journey as an ecologist, experiential educator and peacebuilder across the world ever since. Compelled by the power of metaphor to shape our world, he strives to plant seeds of a more fruitful future. More info at fredericklivingston.com.