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.