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.
(back to poetry)