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A light says why. From all the poor prying. Again we attain a more
regal posture—small bird accompanying slips between our whim.
Where will we flicker, loose as two feathers from a wren’s back? Gone,
do not brood for all the hands that miss you. They hardly hold. Don’t
wait, one who thought a dark eye could save you, like night with its black
paws curled and gone to sleep. There are only two names to remember,
Loss and Pleasure, crossed in this field like no man’s borrowed light. Call
the far-sighted foxes to the launching. Call the small deer scattered in
the back brush, swift as flit. Contingency has arms and hands and wasted
faces. And a body, shrunk and scurvy, built to burn.
- Karen Volkman
In the meadow there are signals
for staying
Dear Someone
my emptiness has a lake in it deep and watery
with several temperaments milk cola beer
at night the selves are made of water
all the openings flooded streaming with rain
my emptiness has an aqueduct in it
selves rushing through channels
dissolving washing away in streaks
my emptiness has a fish in it
a piece of seaweed liferaft a rocky strait
all night the selves are breaking themselves
again and again on the sandbar
you can’t get out from the drowning
nightwatery the blacksparkling pools
my emptiness has a nowhere reef an island
at night the immersion comes deep-running and sudden
the selves
it washes us under and sudden
- Deborah Landau
“I think we’re just gonna have to be secretly in love with each other and leave it at that, Ritchie.”
