An eye on the grained wire
opens the way
from the fern in the drinking-glass
to the shako of lilac.
It waits
in a lace-maker’s frame-a swarmer descending-
moving its needle,
and feeding a bitten margin with the dragonfly’s changes.
It would enter a hazardless world:
it would order
the unending, repeated rosette on the lace-maker’s border,
and inhabit the center.
It points its embroiderer’s
burin in the nap of the honeycomb, arranges
its wish, and strikes through the web of the sash:
“a peaceable kingdom:”
lilac;
a fern in a jelly-jar;
a unicorn
crossing the loom of the window-frame, blood on its horn.
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