Bishop Rock

should clouds appear to wash the sky with shadows,

recall what hides behind. there is more to a tale

than what the teller reveals. what is hidden,

left unsaid, holds the greater weight.

see this feather lying here, once on a black-white bird.

i watched it fall and settle, i watched it float back up.

the deer that stood on water, the rocks beneath my feet,

all rose as one and carried off the missing and forgotten.

head held back, yet i could not envision where they’d go.

white-capped the mountains, falling still, a howling

in the wind. voices raised, they follow in that ocean

made of dust. it won’t be long until we all know.