A poem About Me

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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