The Last Word On Nothing

Snow is blank only briefly—
just after it falls.

Then pass coyote deer rabbit you me
and the sun melts our tracks
into braided cups.

Or rain carves runnels
that join in intricate fans—
deltas without water.

Or freeze and thaw and freeze and thaw
make soft piles
into brittle fins of ice

Or heat lingers
and bends
snow’s smooth plane
into a rolling terrain
of mounds and dips—a union that reveals
the nature of the ground below.

I think
desire can be that way, too:

what you want
is different
once you get it
but
what sets you alight also
shows you your shape.

All images are the original work of the author

what you want
is different
once you get it
but
what sets you alight also
shows you your shape