locating faraway objects

This is a ruby, an area of memory
set aside.
Rides a boy's bike (a detail)

When you watch the rushes a second time,

the story of her
experience,
the lost coat, shots fired at the sky—

Forsworn. Maybe a second too green.

Takes a picture of the coffee cup, his black shoes
on the rug. He says: "I'm working these two days."
Sends the photos from his phone.

I make the translation again.

Forsake.
For what the future
may hold.

A slight adjustment toward plain darkness.

Lay thus.

\  

[previously published in Cannibal, issue 5]