Itinerant Stanzas

Nets stretch
through trees but we 
make fables about milkweed 
butterflies and birds
flying blind.

*

A birthing chair, oiled
to a dark sheen. Even furniture
sings odes to the ways in which
certain bodies are made 
to open.

* 
 
The fantasy in which you find
your way back doesn't exist,
even if you remember the name
of every river or road shaped
like the ideogram for home.

*

Lean back into
your own body, then.
Cradle and fist, shuttle
and loom. A boat at night.
Above all, a boat.

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