MEMORY THEATRE

Memory theatre. Things and words, in poised positions. Retrieved, they flood enunciation. An empty house, alive with secret sources—the scholar passes tapping his brow. “I left the idea beside this lintel” or “the imbrication lights the column” and twines it with silent ivies erupting skies. The speaker is spectator, shifting on the stage. She gazes on the bevels and boxes, each a singing planet. “My piano, my length of sail.” The lion under the aspect will not eat.