A maze
cannot navigate. To slough off:
like skin cells, turn from a fine

powder, into into earth into sand
into skin oil and light. Burn.

A perfected balance achieved in sleep
can sometimes twist up through wakefulness
its delicate wire and weight contraption.

A child-like willingness today
was, only yesterday, an embryo
in the womb of my resistance.

herbs bought in the throes of
gourmet dinner clubs now shriveled in their
glass bottles, a litmus for the total
disinterest in anything to do with food.

seeking a sign
that has survived nothingness
a lost toy
or simple earthen potsherd

I would have said, My Lord,
let me take your temperature, & occasioned a sonnet
sequence premiered at court. What a tragedy he died
so young that I have only his portrait to covet.