Where Often
by Anne Doolittle


the insubstantial builds
when no two days are given away
something polishes the mantle
of motion framing the fingerprints of day

inside a cloth of crocheted rain
chants decipher droplets
as if each inked a stain
or eclipse on morning’s temple

this is the only hold
for a human out in the open
feeling grass’s undertow
and the wind’s shoulder sharpen


Copyright © 1999 Anne Doolittle
All Rights Reserved

 

Also by Anne Doolittle:

Pied Apple