I remember thinking: snow clouds
a book, and a wing
arrive in the night the texture
of carpet
thick wool
falls from the sky
covers my eyes where I long
to dwell
where you have been every morning
peripheral shape

blurring the slow melt
into the shape of new ritual
a different side of night
equinoctial distances
crossing the tracks to and fro
in search of the America of the Americas
talking in sweet tongues with oil
telling of love in a time
of abundance
to someone more even

Queen of days
what raised your American hands
from where the blue sat
drawing circles
when you are invisible, sorceress
drawing energy in blue waves up to
your tower

the clouds and the birds float by
a saturated scene
flocking together to block out the sun
in its sunken tapestry

I remember thinking: blindness
I remember thinking I could have come up
so clean
from the ocean of calm that birthed me