--
fricative step grinds leaf scent wetted on stone
you hesitate a question
it would be that even so as it may
to be that rustle of leaves
(goldfinch slips through) just somebody
gone before my gaze’s arrival
that particular yellow, I wish I had believed it when I saw it (the first time)
--
no, not that it would be
no, not the same
no, not a thing
no, not them there
no, not it there
no, not you
no, not anybody but me
no, not anyone without
no, not somebody with
no, not someone in
no, not everyone out
no, not everything with
no, not nobody there
no, not nothing
--
Why was the fact lonely?
It was too ugly to be believed.
--
no not goldfinch that’s house sparrow
don’t ever fuck
you that force: air between lip and teeth
a flex
poetry is not a luxury nor is grief
I believe it all, goldfinch after goldfinch
you can lie but I’ll know
how many I know too many
gone I know
-
Miri Karraker lives and works in Minneapolis.