like mockingbirds
or laugh when that
was too late .
I opened my hand flat
on the table and saw
the four rivers
that never meet , each
freighted with salt,
I saw the dead seas,
the horns of yellow skin,
the pools of shadow
drying up , and
when I turned
it over , the old veins
rose up as though
the hour were urgent
and settled back . On
the dark grained
wood, each finger went
ItS
separate way
crowned with a slip
of moon , and I
sh uddered awake
in the cold, a new bird
.
.
.
10
spnng ratn
or an old man casting
fire out of his eyes.
