The Incommensurable Light: A Poem on Simulacra, Love, and Doom

Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath,
And so live ever—or else swoon to death.

— John Keats, “Bright Star.”

…the incommensurable light
that struggles to illuminate
the vast expanses
extending before the limits
of what we can know—
beyond the magic of poetry,
wherein love dwells.

Such is the simulacrum
my lidless eyes perceive
of you:

the incommensurability of that light,
most likely that of a star
wanting to illuminate the way
our love should exist

if it is ever to apprehend
the magic that engenders
the poetry assailing my heart

when my lidless eyes
perceive your simulacrum
as it approaches

the throbbing throat
that awaits the gallows
commensurate with your hands.