Burnt by lightning    nevertheless
she’ll walk this terra infinita

lashes singed on her third eye
searching definite shadows    for an indefinite future

Old shed-boards beaten silvery hang
askew as sheltering
some delicate indefensible existence  

Long grasses shiver in a vanished doorway’s draft
a place of origins    as yet unclosured and unclaimed

Writing cursive instructions on abounding air

If you arrive with ripe pears, bring a sharpened knife
Bring cyanide with the honeycomb

             call before you come