Air,
a twice-torn flag,
homeless,
dark 
against
the dark blue dome.

Night.
A woman, childless, 
tarries
on the humid bank

of an island,
watching
lights from the bridge
reflect on the water.

The humid earth, the wet stones.

Her long hair,
her feet in the soil, 
her hands.

Her hands
want to know
how warm
or how cool
the water
is.
 

MARVEL

You lie on our bed
in scarlet light 

I speak to you, Come with me,
with hand and fingers

you are not here.

Your beautiful face in scarlet light.

I rise

Come with me

with fingers

but you sleep.

This place

Then a memory valve opens,
and I 
and I

They took it all away,
unearthed 
a hill,
ripped forest
from root.
Ten children in snowsuits
raising up their hands.
 

And later you read 
words,
like fountain,

that he brought to life
like any tree

Rilke, your
Brunnen
and
Baum 

and I say

Come to me

and ask you to give me all words
 teach me this alphabet

before it ceased,
before fountain 
turned to raw stone.
 

Graverobber,
dig up the words 
and learn language 
from the dead.

Glowworm fireflies fountain
in the grass.