Eppur’ si muove
                                                                       for Hawking

The first day was a Thursday, and I was uncomfortably relaxed.
A soft rain hissed on my window as all the dark and soft places of earth
Groped out, like mammals in the sand, found ways to the surface
To gasp at the silences.
And all the way outside I saw the colors fadeinto brilliance
the plants and sky weigh down to the earth,
unnerved, unnumbered, undead by years,
Untrusted by men with
Less than eight hours'
Sleep in their eyes.

You Fool,
I've bit in to dead dogs tastier than you
Chewed on faiths and foreign tongues
clamped up tight like a mercy killing
slept in the barrel of a gun and lived
never to tell the tale

There's something Greek about the way we move
in soft, sloping gestures,
desperate to portrait lovers,
feeling guilty in the silences,

touching in the spaces
between words.