Only the sound beyond the ear’s reachbeyond silence, soothes.
Washed by constant watersremembered, later, in the touch of wind on skin
in that first exhalation, first greetingfirst knowledge of lying
outside the silencethe voice is heard, an instrument
whose sharps and flats desire interpretationthe rough bark startling
– as it still does –indicates love or its faithful companion betrayal:
a kiss sword-sharp given in a midnight gardena sop of vinegar-wine
– not a malicious act –a rock rolled back, an empty cloth where hope also lies.