My body opens
like a telescope
from bed, always
groping for
blood, for oxygen,
for stars, for
points of light,
for little idio-
syncrasies of light.
Sphere, cylindrical,
press near
my ear, my tongue,
move sinews—
snap, slap,
the skein of skin.
Hawks, dogs,
everything runs
the other way,
the end-stopped rain-
drops, little tablets,
their curved
bellies slap and flop.
Below, the ship
enters—boat,
prow, and bier.
The hill is my bed
and I lie down, seasick—
suddenly, a woman.
