Whatever Says Goodbye
And foliage never tells us the right season.
I am chilled in heat, golden leaves reaching
around the understory of the cottonwood.
Bearing down on us, the sky.
Withdrawing from sight, you hear tapping
underfoot. The source will emerge.
You will face who you once were.
Allow the sun to feed your barren stomach
while it wrecks the forest. Everything burns,
eventually, I tell them. Leave us alone
where we can let the fire warm us.
A Vector for the Year
You cannot think of the particles, so tiny.
You cannot see your body as cells
or the universe as specs or the sea
as droplets. Only whole
you are splintered
yet magnetic. Adhesive for only a body that fits.
Startled silence all around you. A plane
changing direction over the water.