revenant 2

                                                            flickering, we live uncalendared.

                                                               Jennifer Moxley, “Underlying Assumptions”


Quivering, we live as if without limits

At intervals, we feel unbound to our feet


Mouthing words, we are carried by tides, great waves



Periodically, we walk the beach unaware of the kelp and flotsam, clouds of glory flapping along behind


Between helium and neon we return, our faces painted green and orange—

in a gas balloon, jettisoning our precious books


On the back of a whale, chasing schools of oolichan, we dive


On summer evenings—in the moments before lights-off—we disappear, small girls reading Babar and Madeline, exploring desert islands, teasing tigers in the zoo


Writing, distractible we err, one ear always to the humid night, to crickets and thunder—


Writing, we are unselved, unsealed, moths flying out of a book, staining the pages with light-sensitive ink


Between pages we shimmer, unnoticed by thick-fingered readers breathing

with open mouths


Among will-o’-the-wisps we are unparalleled, our flight paths colliding in the library


Crushed yet still ticking, we are uncovered in a copy of Hamlet found at a garage

sale, we beetle over ramparts, spook the night watch


Between lightning bolts we return in mirrors, we return—


                                                                             in accidental spills (hot tea),

in missing disks, erasers, earrings, names—in glances, tics and winks, the upsurge

of summer storms—

                        in hunger for sugar, aching teeth—hunger as if

without limit