Snow Flower Wag Holds The Day Here Beneath
a tree; to exist
the green is invisible. Arms dip in the sink,
push the mud logged with furniture,
lock and drawer. Water pleats
appear
by waterfall.
I’ll rest too. Near you I can be
present, frond.
White kept at the surrounding,
stood looking, fit my face to see if I was
ironwork.
Wader, your hinges
shock the shape
water’s spilling; your legs now in eyes.
When I go mole, cover me.
