SERIES IN RELIEF
I.
And, until now, I had collected everything I needed. Though nothing in its entirety, which is always true.
II.
But from you, the old wants resurface, like a face rubbed into glass by an open palm.
III.
Like the disturbance of stiff shirts in a closet. Knocking shoulders, they become more familiar.
IV.
As when the ritual-machine of a flower repeats itself obsessively.
V.
All these times I've left a hollow locust shell on the table and forgotten it—I want to say thank you, but never turn around in time.
VI.
Cover a ghost with a sheet and it becomes you. What does silence want? The gray bird panicking my throat.
VII.
The night makes a dragon the size of two hands and drags you back from the present. There was a war with no one in it.
VIII.
And nothing vacillates. Nothing of interest. Must I supply the bright shadow?
IX.
To have symmetry, you must believe sadness. You must remember what follows caution, what body will appear in the field at dawn.
X.
Like someone who says: build a horse. And I do.
TYPO
29
|