running from is running to

Running from is running to

It begins with the primeval rhythm just below the city, a murky light sneaking into the cool darkness,

Then,
You, eyes opening, the half-drawn curtains,
in that dream between dreams,
where the the hum of the fan whispers seductively the heartbeat of the earth,
-a single bird song-
and a star hung low, throbbing in the east
from one dream
you are borne into another until

From that quiet night you slip out, tie laces, inhale, door opens, step quickens, pulse races, and the rhythm, the rhythm, the rhythm

Even in a land as squandering and sprawling as Los Angeles

the human world slumbers,
except for you,
and the rhythm
the rhythm
the rhythm

you and the plumeria
you and the sprinklers
you and the crows

you, entering a treelined sidewalk
cracked and bulging
high summer, flowers sickly sweet
breath
you and the sunlight spreckling your face

burst forth from that shade
breathe into this bright sun
find this morning

run

this running from
is running to

let the beauty of a city awakening
wash you clean

these words
they are always the same

this breath
it is always new

-eem