from Apparition Poems (#1340)


Arms folded over chest
(as the man on the four of
Swords), she paints inside
a box-like carven space,
(dank edges only seen on
the outside), light filters in
from small square windows,
I hover over her, I’m this
that she wants, but what
she needs is to once again
feel what avalanches can’t
reach this head so full of
color, ribbons, blueness.