Nobody complains
about the rendering
of an elm limb.
They like to study
the outstretched arm, the
bark, worn and past-elegant.
Having pawned his watch & overcoat,
he stands in a shabby corduroy suit
painting a muted-grey seascape—
while his wife runs a hat shop.
Because the first flower was white.
Because they are ancient birds. Because
their arms pull comets from the sky.
Because dancing is celestial business.
A wind blows and a rain
falls in the shape
of this house.
A single lamp
draws every surface
in this room.