Forest and Trees

a net
my mother’s gaze, my silence; my son’s distance
the splintered table a graveyard of sunlight

my fingers on the net, grasping gently
the fibers inside them – inside? – wound more tightly still

one more crow and the flock arises
an eyebrow is raised
but we live by flocks, forests, villages
yet touch a feather, a fir’s lime-fresh needle, a warm cheek smiling

my ruler bends at such tangles
we’ve always started with the alpha,omega
and left the middle
to some other guy

this ruler is borrowed
but I think I will bend it
(gently, my fingers)
some more



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