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{another morning, startling out} pj nights my phosphorescent heart wings the yellow finch on its way beyond insect after insect and soon you will sing physicists are magicians netting quarks and light from the first of time—geologists squeeze moist breath from stones with a fury of new crimes I stand naked in my beginnings on a Tuesday night I might have spoken to you, my hand on my coat yet your signature—hard as malachite— at the bottom of the letter sent me on a crooked, one-winged path to the white and black of rounded quartz by the sea the foam at my feet carries your words all the way to France diamond snails locomoting in their trail |
