All night I flew the dark recess of God’s mind. It was arranged like Iowa fields— not a damn thing missing. You ask how I survived. I lived on a message, broad light at the end of the world. Words, they have so much in common with departure, the clouds elliptical & nervous. Why translate? It’s just a revolving door. “Chill wind” has seven components. One is loss.
From Lark Apprentice by Louise Mathias. Copyright © 2004 by Louise Mathias. Reprinted by permission of New Issues Poetry & Prose. All rights reserved.