i broke down in east saint louis

for tom waits

we discover strength in pain.

for in the heart that bleeds is found the blood that gives us best.

in every bloom is the flesh of the dead thing that made up the ground.

this is what it means to dig.

this is what it means to take shovel and break the earth.

that the seed may foster its loveliness, the breathless press of its promise.

taste the air: it is sepulchral with love.

for in every breath we find our heart mimicks itself as if linear, as if parallel, as if married within itself, secretly.

but instead it twists like a knot, rising against itself.

like hands, for no reason.

or like eyes, tying themselves in together.

together like pulse we are and always shall be each other.

and if our devotions frighten it is because they are flesh.

this is why i am strong.

i am a double knot.  with love.  

fingers, rub raw, and wrists, take impress will or no:

i am love itself.