Poem By Joseph Hutchison
You’re like wildwood at the edge of a city.
And I’m the city: steam, sirens, a jumble
of lit and unlit windows in the night.
You’re the land as it must have been
and will be—before me, after me.
It’s your natural openness
I want to enfold me. But then
you’d become city; or you’d hide
away your wildness to save it.
So I stay within limits—city limits,
heart limits. Although, under everything,
I have felt unlimited earth. Unlimited you.