the breath the trees the bridge
the road the rain the sheen
the breath the line the skin
the vineyard the fences the leg
the water the breath the shift
the hair the wheels the shoulder
the breath the lane the streak
the lining the hour the reasons
the name the distance the breath
the scent the dogs the blear
the lungs the breath the glove
the signal the turn the need
the steps the lights the door
the mouth the tongue the eyes
the burn the burned the burning
—C. D. Wright
why
do the
fingers
of the lit
tle once beau
tiful la
dy(sitting sew
ing at an o
pen window this
fine morning)fly
instead of dancing
are they possibly
afraid that life is
running away from
them(i wonder)or
isn’t she a
ware that life(who
never grows old)
is always beau
tiful and
that nobod
y beauti
ful ev
er hur
ries
