Part Two
the beginning of a scene
her wan smile rejects you, around it, the wind occurs— somewhere else, on another porch this night is not so particular
tell yourself that nature has no motives or conceits, that her hair only suggests the shape of the wind, that her eyes do little else than reflect the heavens
Locust Street
Shadows press into the ground, the black trees lay flat against the clouds; jackdaws arc above the rooftops then push into the wind toward the highest branches; a boy whirls around a tree, emulating their startled flight, then ambles toward his brothers by the lake.
One by one, the windows light up as the elders lean toward the street— their boys grow in the darkness, appearing larger in silhouette each year as they round the corner.
Appalachia
In the rhododendrons, something stirs. Tar paper shacks on the black slope lean in the direction of the wind. The dogs tense and bristle their coats, their master adjusts his head lamp.
Their orange hair quivers as they bay into the valley. A pine tree bends with the weight of some invisible animal scaling the branches.
The grass moves at the edge of the field in waves and small eddies, then stops, then begins as the dogs collect their senses beneath the brush.
The moon passes by a long cloud, then rolls into the darkness. The ground shudders, a constellation of headlamps defines the body of the forest.
visitation
the grey arms define the impressions of gravity,
her body presses into his suit
like a child face down in the sand
but instead of water pouring into the mold
imagine space pushing the cloth into its grey valleys—
the bottom of the ocean is lighter than this room—
the grey arms reach for something
a strand of smoke slips from a pair of lips, drifts to the floor
a pearl necklace falling into the water
understanding the ancients
An airplane buzzed overhead, a dozen or so seagulls pecked around my feet, a man wearing a turban skated by— and for one moment you seemed to converge with all of it.
palimpsest
a woman slips through the long cattails then pushes off from the bank towards the center of the pond
she sinks into the water as her pale suggestion echoes outward on the edge of the ripples
the stars realign quickly on the surface of the pond as if the evening had not been disturbed by her body, even for a moment
commentary:
an image on the surface, a woman's body piercing through it only to be swallowed up by the order of things
should her act engrave a story on the water or is it better to pass through the wind like a bird leaving no trace of ever having been here