from "The Silver City"

I.



Polish down
the windows
to find more bone
or

at least

marrow.

Become caught in arrested decay.

Bottles in the air
and bifocals in the air.

Bottle the air.


Or photograph it.

Let's have proof
of her, if only
once.


The first emergence of kneeling disappears

                so sudden.
                                                How can we find the short split
                                                between near and far
                                                sighted when no one here
can even see.





II.

Madly                she is damp all over                and sometimes allowed        to be parched.

Visitors are coal                and soaked.                         She wonders who

maybe made                 the coats        off her balcony                hanging.         Who

would come into the house                if not to                 twist        sly

into her foyer.                 Bare, the street would                 ask.                 Never bring

her home.                        She will figure out                 now                 how to dress

these people            warmly.                 Never.                Tell her how to spill         at
this instant.





III.

She hates it

when children

are never sent

back to their

islands.


Keep a white mouse in hand, let it loose when the curtain falls.


Palm fronds in the

seats, be ready

to shield her ears.





IV.

Space between walls
                                is called astonishment.


Everyone has cindered fingers
and alone, they need help
to prune down.

                Find the fractures between
                paint and wall.


Be careful, she is        careful.




What you find between rocks
        and shine.


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