Marjorie Welish, Small Higher Valley 8, 1995, oil on canvas, 48 × 60 inches.
H is for Hat
Regrettably, you put it near me
It was as though an unstoppable fact had come between us
How appropriate, therefore, to be literature in a bereft
You were sorry at every level, perpetual, conceptual
You were sorry. No one speaks here. That we are speaking
language oozing incomplete arithmetic
would be nice. Put it next.
“To throw with an overhand pushing motion”
to put the shot
to plant or imprison or formulate the shot—
“I am talking, by definition, about it.”
Putting a finger on Ecclesiastes
in other possible worlds, possibly your world of warmth
reclaims it, it and other assets up in the under-eave space.