NOTICING
how to be literal as a last gasp
how moonlight sticks in your hair
how fingers melt into the things they pry open
how to get into your clothes without dropping your nakedness
how the hills fill up with water till the trees drown and
small farms and graves sink to the bottom
how objects stay close to their shadows for fear of being
parted forever
how this fear is like a lake that fills up the hills and we
could drown in it
except that our voices keep calling out the strokes that keep
us afloat and listening to each other we know
how to strike out for shore and leave the raft to its other
extremenext poem >>