Winter sun and bought a skillet.
The sea reaches up a bowl of iolite
in some drenched hand which doesn't
point the way. Pearl-masts bob as if
the narrow tracks of urban forest sprouted
(more)
right on into the harbor and calcified,
closer, the first emeralds of the year
open on a glistening branch.
Closer, ruby and moonstone blaze and blacken -
two squirrels tussle between shadow
and light in the straight alley.
The city is so wild in its swaggering order!
Closer, my eyes glint back two pinholes of desire.
Yes, I can manage new cookware,
and calm afternoons watching gemstones
dazzling away like the aventurine grass
offering a place for my feet to forget shoes awhile,
but I am trying to fry the smallest fish imaginable -
smolts
minnows!
On the sill a paperwhite grows in crushed quartz
scavenged from a parking strip,
my head warmed by a hat found
in a boxwood hedge.
The gardener sees me lounging like old money
while he digs in the earth,
two glints of lapis searching for sun.
We stare and
listen to the sound of people
searching in the dirt.
(less)
