Obsurity & Shelter
Obscurity & Shelter
it’s the moon that is incommunicado
it looks so natural I see a woman reading a book
it’s early yet they could walk to the water
it’s at the brink of a memory she doesn’t want to call up
it’s still light trailing scarves of fog
it’s not too late blow between her eyes
it’s growing more insistent the face is always there
it’s the same house skeletal but secure
where he grew up
a one-story clapboard with stuff
crammed into drawers
waiting for the adults to go out
never enough closets
so he could roll a smoke or call her
pull the door to
and start sprouting a mustache
who ate to the tail
straight from the fridge
trout skin flesh cartilage
always against everything
on multiple channels
as one’s intentions are so often
obscured to oneself
wanting what one wants
the closeness, the warmth
that takes place before fire
a world before his candle
it’s the ria that’s heard
beyond the treeline
the water folding back
a blanket that waits
for the body
half-listening
overflowing
its archipelagos
ria in Galician
drowned valley
from The Other Hand (Horse Less Press, 2013)
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