poem || Felino A. Soriano

Of this Momentum Song (twenty-two)

 

   We’ve learned     staying

                           says

  the body rejoins     fuller

     following space’s

    comfort from curated

                      anxiety,

       how it spells surnames

     attaching meaning to

         bodies and relative

                         acclimation—

    we’ve been here

  prior, the pulses

     know our fathoms

                   know

   our devotions started

     in singular splays     from

   syllables stretched to

      allow inorganic melod

                         -ies

                                to bend to invert to

                              blend to invite a

                                  contained move

                                               -ment

                               meant to trio with

                                   our intentional solos

                                 —our flail from spine in

                                                  how

                             the wing of us draw

                              -s mention from the

                               gray of death to

                                  enliven our awakening

                                                     to

    engage with conviction

  where we’re going says

      drums will never myth

     will always mirage

                      to

    fool what follows

      with halved intentions

     with lined meaning

                      blurred

  while our clarity

   warms what we’re

       amid in exhaled

 contours     and the way

this crow danced in praise to

    an hours’ cultivated

                       euphony

  we’ve kept this sweet

   momentum stuck

 into the pocket, strong

    within

         know

                                           -ing how we move is

                                          serial in tradition, blowing

                                              signaled affection to

                                            the dead, not discarded

                                                                 using

                          Song

 to hurry us…

 

            to

                    immingle

 

   what surrounds

  in the periphery of

                       devoted

symmetry among

   architectural

 

               acculturation