There is so much to cover
Like thistles over the inlet
One moment a fire rendezvous
The next darkness in darkness
In the heart of a tsunami
A lonely man holds his rug
In the heart of a hurricane
The missing people
Of Tennessee cling to an ash
In the eye of a tornado
It is calm like a world
Of missing people
Together washing away the letters
Of their names
I am sorry for being this weedy
And for the prickers
Opening the side of your calf
Will nothing else suffice
For this panorama
Or should we head
Back to the search party
And the evening
Escaping into a small
And beautiful sea
With pink strokes on clouds
Beneath the descending day
The flurries of the whole
Dampening continents
And rolls of oceanic upholstery.
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