You are like a subfusc gem full
of internal facets and darkness
Refracting light at oblique angle
sidelong to the point of things
Whose
love projected on the ceilings
of any & of all the buildings
The golden rings—who, coiled
—fill the the joint's insides
The subtle difference of the wave when they collide
Summer, stifling forest and
the tempestuous glint of metal
in grass He will let all
pass above the grassy pitch
which is leavened, stretched
Looking toward the recent
past, to try and find it
The clearing out the fire
pits The oft-painted
sitting bench
