again the trying on of houses, different arms, tin cans.
the heart in a paper sack. your own impossibilities. an
x over the chest of a bird. as if knowing the sun, as if.
the color is delicate here. the best we can make are a series
of studies. so let's no more retellings. the hands are inter
changable. replaceable. the living trees burning heavenward.
the soul coiled in a cup. the soil culled in a bowl. this will
cost me. my blood. my brain. i shall be completely ex-
hausted after the orchards. yes, the indelible x. the certain-
ty of naming during the collecting of names. i color myself
at the eyes. the worry of blue. the consequence of violet.
