A crowd parted. There was a meadow.

New apartment and fruit Nina gave
us that would spoil. Wavering
constellations of gnats
along the sea wall, several foxes—
The shape of each garment has
been fixed in such a manner—
can barely breathe without error,
line of the wax pencil
its inherited arc
making the shape of the room
each guest received
as if the shade could be an ampule,
as if the light were anything
but this room. Buffalo
and curtains and the tang of lime
on a glass edge. This is where
we tie knots, stack coins, mouth
syllables as the night cools
illusory foxes (if we dreamed
them they are real) driving past
the apartment unrecognized
where there are many new places
to sit, drink, recount several
real events (if we dreamed them
they are foxes). As the night
cools—What if the sounds we
hear are signatures—
where there was a meadow.






Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s