IN MARCH WHEN YOU TELL ME YOU DON’T

I walk in a straight line as a compass pulled the wrong way north.

High Priestess of the Not-Quite. Chief Dolorous. And fuck it all—

All of it. Unobserved, clement.

Being the one who—being the one that—–

I have the problem of needing to say my history teeth-first to a body

of water—to the river, to the gutter, to the storm drain red & rushed

with leaves in dirty water on the way to your apartment maybe

I should give up the story that what I say can change it

notwithstanding one for, one against your cowardice

notwithstanding halfwinter light torn up wet-white & eyeless

& I know I should sky up birdward—I know I should circle high

until my arms are kited cramped but can I see you

plainly or at all from any height do I know how

to see you I do but I don’t & I can’t

find you on a March night moonless on the hill where I know you

are out walking the treeline slowly with your dog.

Tell me               if I can make the not-moon intercede—

If I can come south as a figure wearing starlings as a coat

If I can be If I can be If I can be

a tunnel either leafing or branching or——

If I can be If I can be If I can be