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.