in that dark, clipped
my hand, no totem animal
smacks you on the back of the neck.
You enter the world
pierced among numbers
the open sign
you. Or birds
I address you
blinder, blinded by—but so slow
our shockless eyes. I
mangle the bird to make myself stronger.
in this dark that makes
an aviary bird never sings to the light.
a seeing creature, I eye
you. All bird or you
without feathers to render your name
you, a body all verb
My footprints, they you.
1st, 2nd & bird. George Oppen, arms
fraught & square. 4 sides to the frame.