I see the ripples you create
when you breathe on the
surface of the sun,
the blanched morning’s
Guess the thing you can’t name.
The two legged animal your tongue wears
is my castle on Sappho’s paper boat.
My fingers, the
quill of divisible dust on indivisible paper.
A leaf collides with my throat
and settles there,quivering
with my lost breath.