6.
One of her servants, night before the solstice: dry leaves in the wind I mistake for animals; it’s the still things we mistake for motion. I am a thin man in any city all cheekbones and forgetting. Walk a warm red thing, beaten from the cold. Coal. Stirred against my own nature glowing. But there is no my nature. No walking. No hunger. This, red, warm.
7.
Picture of an eagle. Turn upside down. Descent with branches. Talon rent. Lines, pulsing downwards on the downward tree. Arrow on a broken sign. Let it speak. A girl standing on her head after the storm. It’s always this way. Sign speak. Pretend to understand. The eagle leads you home.
8.
Storm the memory. Arms turned to branches. You’ll have to be like the drowning sailor. Copy it down. Double and descend. Then I don’t know. Above the well, with a star-net, she waits. I do remember that. The memory outside itself.
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