in the interim I said a prayer for my looking glass
and imagined the sketches sunlight would spread on a

bedroom floor until my mushy mind palpitated while
trying to envision the inverted interior of a piano

spread like a constellation along the consecrated
space of rural Georgia south of Suches

each snapped-off wire would map an impossible river
a theoretical flow on the actual ground

*

the biplane touches down by an act of negative
culpability and a painter figuring nearby fields

finds a yellow that explodes her conception of
the way daffodils render their flayed edges

cast into the shapes of contingency against
the problem of grass growing and the problem

of ink stains that soak into my retinas and overlay
the shore I see with the image of another shore