The body captures the rhythm. A kind
of lilt to the step. Never a tread. You
are looking for ladders to the world.
Hooks. Sometimes it is like holding on
to the strap in a swaying subway.
The black tunnel floods past, then
the bright stations. People. Up to
the sunlight and out into the fields.
Walking mostly. Connections are
risky but can be pursued. Listen
to the voices calibrate the days.
God in the details. The weather.
The swift mortal river. Blood pouring
its bright chain. Speechless love.