I wonder if they’ve really caught the scent,
which is a poor memory in our Symbolist ears

My friends, before we wheel
out the most staggering invention of all time

These are the same stairs, unnoticed, essential,
submerged in shadow bath; and that is the same

Take that hand away, the hand
washing like small warm stones along my neck

There’s a donkey standing in the doorway,

Check yellow. It must be kept for the center
of flowers and
other intense moments, not

The difficulties, in passion,
are not news: the knot at the throat,
the lipstick that smears, the skirt

So the hip rises, oh so slightly, in its golden socket
and music continues despite the dawn

The lion threw his head back and sang two notes like a veery

Too late. The phone had stopped
ringing, but already the narrow bottle stood
on the table, the water in it reflecting
the rug on the floor as orange. Thinking

 An oval bed of nails held the arrangement in the half-light from an adjoining room, where perforations trained puffs of air against metal fingers to draw Brahms from the upright.

Cloud in front, sun in back
Atoms extended in space