The Silk Road

You’re sitting here with us, but you’re also out walking

in a field at dawn.  You are yourself

the animal we hunt when you come with us on the chase.

You’re in your body like a plant is solid in the ground,

yet you’re wind.  You’re the diver’s clothes

lying empty on the beach.  You’re the fish.

In the ocean are many bright strands
and many dark strands like veins that are seen
when a wing is lifted up.
Your hidden self is blood in those, those veins
that are lute strings that make ocean music,
not the sad edge of surf, but the sound of no shore.

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