~ for Dave Bonta
Does a seed anthologize
the customs of trees?
I’ve read books but sometimes
the sea’s voice is more insistent.
When I peer through shop
windows, I’m startled by my image
warping around the dusty hip
of a teapot.
There is never a prescribed
time for a foot to blurt
its confessions in the narrow
toe box of a second-hand shoe.
When I bend to investigate
a dead bird on the walk,
I remember a gate of feathers
and behind it, a face made of milk.
In the dark room,
something brushes against
my bare hand. The moon fluoresces
before I can pull on the cord.
[LAG-other-response url=”https://www.vianegativa.us/2016/02/capital-punishment/” title=”Via Negativa: Capital punishment”]