yes to slate I am made of you.
yes to silk it is strong & flexible & it turns the light inside out.
yes to water how can I resist you when you call me with your liquid tongue?
& yes to the tree corpse you are shaping to hold some body
yes to the sawdust smell of your hands
& yes to all this witchcraft of remembering
yes to the pulp mill steam rising from the morning
I cannot choose which sense to abandon —
not the eyes of sight
never the skin of touch
not the tongue of taste
nor the highway nose
never the ears of song
& these pieces
this wood (yes)
this water (yes)
this slate (yes)
this silk (yes)
this memory (yes)
have conspired to keep a secret from us