Screens and Niches

Screens and niches cannot deceive as pensile woods do to

a woman standing in the dark t r a c i n g stones
sorting grains of granite and flakes of mica

roaming words to find the palest that will do to

time weightless
appealing to another earth

detecting water
exposed to the winds

a

doorway

afraid to say more than it meant yet threads
the plainsong of oyster-catchers
while frost candles the grass and swallows prepare to leave
a fustian animal sleuthing
at the edge

of

the world’s

travelling thought alights in trees

to swing the flat earth to

itself

keeping a handful of you
airtight
climbing steps to the sky

or here
where the light makes aluminum silver

or here
in the autopsy of my hand
is a wilderness
enough
to be lost in