THE SPACES

The spaces of the loved house enlarge

after absence, the reds of the red pots

engorge their iridescence, the bright breaks

the road-whelmed eyes, the body tremulous

with miles, the shudder in the car-core,

the bones’ interior, the ceiling higher, the traffic

quaver. The rooms boom. Body smaller, older,

unfamiliar, a fragile filter, a thin vibrating string,

struck sum. Is it home? This echoing resonance,

high tomb. This calculus, unlikely correspondence,

rung dome. The body drowns in its bounty,

hums in its staunch solidity, its syntax,

its sun-smote windows, lucent alchemy, the process.

Laurel in the pot. Rosemary for remembrance.

The body will blur its boundary, will embrace.