It is less acrobatic somehow
than you imagined, or did you
imagine it? Because why
would you? A half note rest
of velvet inertia before
everything kicks in—
the wrestled tons, the influx
of geological heat.
Just time to kiss
the upturned world
of sodium lights, the junctions
cross-hatched and spotless.
It’s not like you’re stroking
coral with that sluggish
underwater reverence
or holding your ground
long enough to glimpse
a field of gold, a virgin
a child not of this world.
Paraic O’Donnell 
Really lovely, thank you.