“You go where the landshed takes you,
    One word at a time, still
    Counting your money, wearing impermanent clothes.”
        Charles Wright

one at a time, chink by chink
you fill gaps in the stone wall,
and you dig in the fresh dirt, something
turning its head toward you
a word buried in leaves

you find them everywhere
in every palm pressed flat against
the window, every scar
that’s gone or disappearing
and you let them go, again and again

you let them go
forgetting the fluttering light, slow
memories of skin to skin, even
the arms that held you,
blood-rose, child

and when the clouds swing
their last ax, you go—
when the last calf sighs to its knees
in the field of stones
when the last word sighs, you go …

(kz 1976)

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