Slow sparks
Vegetable love
you are planted and, nature
mirroring nature,
grow
This snail love,
rippling, wavering, creasing itself to move forward
We knit ourselves,
pulling strand through
strand through
strand to tie ourselves in knots,
weaving ourselves into the fabric of this-
our foxhole, our fort, our rampart
That implacable Indian,
the stacks of shoes,
and the gritty plates:
the objects that know our rhythms
My secret bear/troll,
wild and woolly
growling our hidden jokes and unseen whispers
unscripted for once
unprepared
Like two sailors
we frantically navigate these waters,
desperate to drown ourselves:
shipwrecked,
submerged,
surfaced, and
returned.
Outside our cave we smile in code.
You and I and the Indian
keep our own counsels.