Escorting the immediate ornament of dream
it lingered past the absence it invoked
like a thunderstorm, decisive in its indifference,
that over a folded, unfamiliar premise
recast the decadent frieze allure had let go:
sharpening of caution along a branch,
expansion into dark, elaborate fields
where, because it had not yet inquired,
trees resisted wind that sounded of nothing,
no place, nobody known,
already other than why it was setting out:
closing in of clouds, forgotten forms,
dusk erotic blue at the river's inflection
as if, by encountering its design,
and end was reached before the terms were met:
across the outer suspicions of grass
teased by a wrapped, a razor moon
heavier for its weight against a hill,
it stayed above an interior lit from within
at the edge of sight: where we,
because we lived there, were never at home.