this costume—
like most—relies wholly on
the beholder
this costume—
like most—relies wholly on
the beholder
only
a destination saves me
from skipping
their voices
might be a song sung from
a roller coaster
you spoke, and
my mind heard and answered
in murmurs
in morning’s stream
of light, rose—on its banks,
shadowed soil
he keeps
his list of Should and Shouldn’t
even
if cantaloupes,
if bowls, if the hemispheres
of other planets
you need only
reverse your binoculars
to send me away
the blur
at sight’s edge is a ghost
or sleep leaving
blue and hard,
a dome of sapphire, as yet
unbroken