The day comes unannounced, inexplicable,
when you can no longer assemble your face
into a blue-&-white bouquet,
color diffusion creating the illusion of light.
The day comes when the illusion of light
is not enough
to sustain a house of cards, a score of men,
a girl going in & out of the yellow field.
Islands float in milk, magma: volcanic rock
I need you to sharpen into something
that can cut food
or kill me. I do believe it makes sense, bee,
a kind I am too far away to see.
You understand. What will save us is a thing
with stitches, stored in the dark. The land marches on
in just one direction, but how can I follow it
without feet. How can I hold it without hands.