*

And the Earth leans against you

from inside, starts its turn

hand over hand --you empty each box

 

slowly, smoothing the sides

then once it’s dark

begin to dig for air

 

and wait for the corner

half cardboard, half taking you in

and no one home though here you are

 

opening a door the way every star

smells from dying winds and grass

--you unpack, thinner and thinner

 

as if the air is losing heart

bending its climb and doors

no longer by the hundreds.

 

>