And now, it’s all the same
the mouth, the sink, the dream.
A bed at the edge of an ocean’s the same
as a train speeding
The Bureau of Travels
has approved all your plans, so you
no longer need
your passport, your cell phone, your coat
to blaze screaming
through the vast North, waving
a flag on fire in the snowy forest, pouring
wine all over the ground, draping
the rearview mirrors
of my car
with red cloth, fogging
the windows, locking the doors, staging
all this silence and emptiness and rust
to torment me, to reveal to me
the hidden mechanics
of lust, having
as you did this morning, from being
a humble student of the universe
to its greatest authority.
Copyright © 2007 Laura Kasischke
Used with the permission of The Permissions Company, Inc.
on behalf of Copper Canyon Press.