As a sign that there is no folding

By: Kathryn Gessner

The wish to forge an antelope’s desert
or to hold a jackrabbit with the eye
or to make just one rainbow stay all day –
The ground brightens and the vessel opens
with longing for wisdom, and getting just
nothing but pine cones outside my cabin–

I have set my chair in the sandy creek
to cool my feet until they cool all through,
suffered mosquitoes to watch the moon rise
over the garden. Then dug the weeds up,
their piles discarded the way a mind wants.

Still, when I wake among the sheets at first
avenue of consciousness, there is your
mind there, and the need to touch you again.

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