ant5

the

smoke

gets

into

a new

place

night

winds

around a red pencil we talk around the wars

the napkin with an insect wing inside unfolds

the two languages of warming a stone with my fingers

maybe yesterday frog

now the spoon’s warm too

lowtide     paraphernalia

last year’s     shell god

where it flows through

new laws a woman

gathering

three wars ago

the king of sharks worked

the night shift