from Be Holding
we in here talkingabout the reaching
that makes of falling flight,do you see
what I’m saying,we’re in here talking
about holding each other,which is a practice, we
talking about holdingour breath,
how long have we been,and how can I be
holding yours,and you
be holding mine,this is my question,
I think,how might I be
holding your breathingand you be
holding mine,a practice
we talking about,the reaching that makes
of falling flight,we in here
talking aboutthe practice
of the beholden,a practice
of being beholden,talking about
how might I holdmy beholden out to you
and you hold yours out to me,how do we be holding each other,
how do we bebeholden to each other,
which is really to say,how do we be,
a practicewe talking about,
a practice, might be, that we, in here,talking about joy,
we in heretalking about joy,
which might be to say,depending on how you look at it,
we in here talking about destroying the worldfor the world,
bound in gratitudelike this
in the beholden,beholding like this
the beholden,what then,
in the photoI am beholden now
the two womenrun toward the camera,
the one in tank top and shorts,arms and legs lit by the flash,
by the light coming through the small windowatop the camera,
coming through the windowof my office now,
limning into stars the forsythiajust opening her golden eyes,
tensed as thoughin movement
because she is runningtoward the camera,
she is being movedby the looking
toward the looking,her right hand nearly
a fist and shoutingat the looking,
at the person behind the camera,there are flowers growing
on her shirt,vining from her hip
nearly to her clavicle,it is wisteria
and clematis,a swirl of pollinating creatures,
including you and me,carouse and amble and hover
in her wake,we gather
in the wake of the gardenthis looking makes,
the muscles in her neckcast shadows, for she is really
shouting, and running,toward the window
and the light laughing inlike she is going to
bound through it,she is going to fly through it,
as the woman to her leftmoves also quickly and with determination
toward the looking,her scarf casting left
in the breezeher hustling makes,
and there is somethingabout her gaze
through the camerathat reminds me in my body
is a tree slouched in prayerby its burden of butterflies,
reminds meI am one of the butterflies,
that inside me always is a lifting offin the direction of something else,
toward you, I really mean to say,waiting to happen,
which is among the ways of sayingthis looking makes me breathe,
this looking holdsmy breathing,
it does not capture or shoot anyone,does not fix anyone,
does not catalog or corralor specimen or coerce,
but holds them bothin their flight,
moving as they are,moved as they are,
away from nothing,but rather toward
this holding,this beholden,
looking as thoughdescending a great staircase made of air with joy,
a good title for this photo,as though running down a great staircase made of air with joy,
for running too is a kindof falling
again and again,as running toward what you love
and what loves youis a kind of falling
again and againinto the reaching
that makes of falling flight,into the hold
of the beholden we are,just as Doc does
after all that flying,he falls,
as the ball kisses the windowand drops through the net,
he falls,painlessly and temporarily,
crawling for a few secondsbefore getting to his feet,
and we,watching,
reaching towardeach other,
we breathe—From Be Holding, University of Pittsburgh Press, 2020.
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