The Edge Of A Reservoir

 

   She told him

but waits until the lashes (lakes)

what do you see?

 

the sleeping sight

the weather of Mother

the wasteful alone     alove

 

  the edge of a reservoir

          so high up   (in your clouds)

 

           I am  a  fire  pet
                  she  said

    
   someone   is   the judge
                          
        a  kindness of the hand
                              toward you

wisely  a breath

comes  to  being

 

  out of the language

of the loving

 

a relentlessness like
  the    leaves

             the grass is
            now
the whole  world

 

as tall  as 
   you are

and
  as rhythmic

as you need
         to  be

 

 

                 I  think  maybe

you’re a contribution

of  pouring  stars
            
         down  my   shirt
                             he  says

but the  year wanders. they wander.



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