Reckoning

When it became clear the world
would continue—others would cull, cook, drive
nails, run serum to veins, spray weeds,
peel and measure, trawl and scrape,
would blast and repair
broken bridges—while I was a mess
of exhaustion, I left. Right out of it. Came three days
indirect to where fish circuit in silence
for a long time in the pond. Birds skate
leaves, getting fat on fruit. The fish shift. I am lucky
to watch them. All that exists is the rapture
of turning. Or rather, hours not
rushing. The light pitches the same field I
hiked in. I lie into it, feel the soft give where
my feet make their shape. Empty doesn’t have to be
a loss. Maybe a simple form
of beginning. Above, the greedy raptors
circle and drift. Nothing between us
but dandelions leaping
on their long stems.

Fractions

We worked in dry air, we woke, leaned again
forward. Dry air always numb across us. Even through vigor

of storm and the later lapsed cavil of elm leaves. Mornings
without variation, I’d listen to the flux and universe

of a barred owl moaning his moods. See first a frame
of branches then the reckon of blue. All this

where I’ve left, where I’ve yielded decisions
to mountains, my place ruled by wheel and a fleet pose

of courageous retellings. Presently I’m spun to a salt-line.
Craned to each wave and the teeth

of tall cedars. Air burnished with drips, without each pulse
and fold of wound wind. Let me put myself firm here.

Let me innumerable fog. The air yawns its gauze. Let me compassion
every shore and each rivering window. Afternoon

downpour. I want the names for the myths of the ocean
and the basis for how it wanders

and wanes. The map, though not all trembling
water, can be how I witness. We’ve been through more

than we haven’t, my love, and our lives are blown (or resolved)
to a road that runs in no careful

directions. Of course, I’ll remember that a hollow
can take me to pieces, but let me harbor the days remaining

in front of me. Radiant directions.
Your body: I will return to it. The sail and the rudder.

A desire. Its constant voice splits my ghosts.