Cabin Fever

All I wanted was a little cabin with a mud floor and us:
an inside and an outside—as simple as that.
And outside would be splendour and inside would be bliss.

You looked at the stars and wondered at your happiness
I looked at my happiness and wondered at the stars
and that was that and this is this.

I would still toil in your garden and work in your basement
to be near you. And you would bring me a cold glass
and your children would be beside you. Heaven

is still as simple as you say it is, moving soil around
until your garden’s planet Earth, major navel: air-cord
for dark astronauts at the moments of their birth.

© Dan Goorevitch, 2007