Friday
"Come," she says. "I'll show you
second hand" and takes her palms
to her brow and pulls them wide:
walls crack to ooze a levant
light around us, swirl us - here.
This hill has strange trees.
"Only three, today," she smiles,
"I've watched them plant forests
some mornings." A spring orchid
spires amid cups of blue bindweed.
I see shapes in the guttering sun,
watching, long shadows restored.
"We could not go to him; we bore
witness instead, a child of whispers:
what monsters and martyrs we birthed!"
Almond petals spot the dry dirt
white about our feet. From the vale
wafts a sharp citrus; from the city
call the chisel taps of hasty repair.
"Lost!" she murmers. "I cannot move!"
"Come," she says. "I'll show you
second hand" and takes her palms
to her brow and pulls them wide:
walls crack to ooze a levant
light around us, swirl us - here.
This hill has strange trees.
"Only three, today," she smiles,
"I've watched them plant forests
some mornings." A spring orchid
spires amid cups of blue bindweed.
I see shapes in the guttering sun,
watching, long shadows restored.
"We could not go to him; we bore
witness instead, a child of whispers:
what monsters and martyrs we birthed!"
Almond petals spot the dry dirt
white about our feet. From the vale
wafts a sharp citrus; from the city
call the chisel taps of hasty repair.
"Lost!" she murmers. "I cannot move!"
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