Messenger
running the pages of that new book
of poems under my finger I’m sounding
like a horse blowing through her teeth when she smells
the shadow creep from up behind her
like (second time up and down) a cat in a window watching
the head of a jay in the dapple birch stand
and too, (slowing) a friend pulling in while I’m bathing with the window
open or pouring coffee or turning on
the news and she comes to me
before I can hear it anonymously but I don’t know what
I don’t know so I hear the tires
slow I hear a bird fly low all sift and scissor
I hear far enough I can only commit to
a guest a pause in the water and take a minute
just a minute
to remember is the tide is going
out or coming in?
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