Accelerated History of Us by Gordon Taylor

In the beginning
I am not sure what to say
so, I nod at you.
*
The earth is altered
forever, trying to shift
from one foot to two.
*
You steady me, hand
on my back, as we float through
a slow-cooked summer.
*
You can never find
your eyeglasses, even when
they are on your face.
*
The coming thunder
excites the shad flies, swarming
in blurs of worry.
*
You say I can’t hold
anyone I think is not
my kind of perfect.
*
Parallel ash; two
cigarettes interrupted
burning on a curb.
*
Mid-winter branches
crawl into our path, giant
spiders made of ice.
*
In my bed you leave
a Post-It Naan recipe
that we never bake.
*
I know spring is here
when the sun is strong enough
to melt a snowbank.
*
Our mythology
evaporates into new
boots and pink crocus.
*
I awake surprised
to learn that beginnings
look the same as ends.
Gordon Taylor (he/him) is a queer poet who walks an ever-swaying wire of technology, health care and poetry. His poems have appeared in Tickle Ace (now Defunct), Prairie Fire, Plenitude, The Bridport Arts Prize Anthology and is forthcoming in Months to Years.