We were of the West
African trees and grasses: the orchid, the flame, the quiver.
In the Nocturama of
Wild javelina, cheetah, and gazelle, we stopped
The clock for dusk. Freezing
Little Tundra, Tiny
Ice Age. Gray-crowned
Crane, with wings extended: the wool
Of your boyhood cast about your bare shoulders.
Beneath the canopy of egrets,
Dreaming of the sea: a great ocean-
Liner, and the ripping of wind
Against the latched wing of the ship’s portal.