first one of the year
I call upon shadow, I awaken the thistled viper that claws its way into the cords of being.
The crispness of cold air on my face, this breath that succumbs: I become foam,
a layering of dust on my eyelids. I name sorrow as it is: a bed.
In the forest of the unknown, a humming void, moonlit coarseness
takes its true form: embankments in my memory
take cover in dullness. I bring forth rain, to keep dusk
apart from the grass. I remember your name.
I unearth the low, broken flicker
from the insides of mineral denseness nurturing the roots;
old and luminous;
its core dazzled momentarily, gasping within itself.
I turn away from it, its song housing a note too silky,
too swollen for better uses. I no longer seek it.