Before going anywhere
we collect signs
from underground,
unseen but necessary.
I am interested in time,
but I will lose the clock
and I will lose the body,
still bearing the world.
branching with her
into other bodies—
bird, whale, tree
who collect me as
bower bird gathers blue—
glass, feather, button—
by arrangement.
I am tethered this way,
then let go.
But made for keeping,
I draw it close again,
marry it to breath,
to release what flies
from limb to future
limb, by losing
the thread—another
way to keep the fabric
as it thins.
Goodbye, we call
to the silhouettes
that shimmer past
what light it leaks
like ink in water,
blooming.
