The Labryrinth Suggests a Center
The past, however, will be full of danger.
The little black salt bowl on the table. The lid, the spoon.
A recurrent undercurrent.
And the natural world of repetitions leads you from day to day as
from
rock to rock and time
leads you forward toward
not the equinoctial
not the formal
while grief lengthens itself into the right shoulder
and reaches down.
You must press it close to your sides and walk the crowded sidewalk,
as if the one were the other.
