To the Point of a Leaf
Look for me in the gloss
of an ear of corn
and on the surface
of ocean waves
you do not want to go
to the treacherous
diaphanous depths
don’t go down
to the gaunt caves
of earthen shade
to find me
look for me
where the yellow rose
casts an illusory light
in the light
that streams forward
through an open beach window
in the sand that
breaks down to tiny jewels
on your finger
not in the cellar’s restive dark
come to the point
of a leaf to meet me
to the old orchard’s
bearable noon -
or
don’t come, don’t come.
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