The kingfisher falls through the dry air-whose eye can stop his falling;
The crab, her bones shut tight as a baby’s fist, waits under water, waits to be opened;
And deer, caged in the ring of a flashlight’s glare, their veins
electric, their hearts cold fire, can neither leave nor stay-
These are geographies you must assume, and rearrange, drifting
into the pocked dream hanging before you like the moon,
faint as a thumbprint on a windowpane, gathering dust…
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