She said she understood the distance
childhood builds into us.
I mentioned bread
and she said, “Say hunger
if that’s what you mean.”
We slept soundly in the fields
while steel clouds
churned destruction into rain.
Watching the plains, the thunder knew.
I saw the golden ladder reaching heaven.
All night I wrestled with the angel.
I wouldn’t let go until he told me,
that cold is just a matter of degree.
You have forgotten the cup of coffee,
that every cup since has been measured against,
and forgotten the proper form of a certain grief,
forgotten the street, the sound, the name.
Suppose that this Wednesday
those things delayed come to pass,
She waits for you with what she’s heard
a thousand words line up for you
She said, “I will be any three.”
You laughed, only ready for two,
Throw runes to the birds.
Let need divide the waters.