Caught Up in Absolute Gravitation

by Murray Shugars

It’s true
Antonin Artaud told us

Life consists of burning up questions
Sharp sensations in our limbs
Stilettos of ice lodged in our throats

A naked foot
Ripples the black water of our love
A shivering pane of star–swerved sound
Immoderate ecstasy or anger
The whole goddamn Milky Way
Hurling over us

Night’s blurred voice
Scrapes against the earth
A low mutter over cold stones
A thin untethered scuff — a moonlit scrap
All tangled up in the toils of desire
Igniting tiny constellations in our eyes