this

A finger
might
run
the length
of
her nose
catch
at
her lower
lip stop
at
a scar a
freckle a
hand
cup
the side
of
her face
allow
the weight
of
her head
her chin
to rest
in
a palm
grip
her waist her
hip pull
her
closer
a voice
might
re
mind
her

soft

lee

that
she
is.

take

It examines
the clutter
of its nest--
piece
of pillow case
frayed
bottom half
of a photo
someone's smile
only
a snatch
of song lyric
few mere
measures
a wrinkled bit
of poetry--
each thing
now
a
pro
pri
ate ed
for some
thing
from some
one
else

It (glittery
eyes)
notes all
it holds
given
freely or
taken
in flight
or
merely
acquired
all
ready
(as if
no
thing of
the real
remained)
used
as bed
or
floor
or
a thing
to chink
the space
left
between twigs.

next

She gathers
her necessaries
in an
ti
ci
pa
tion:
kleenex
lip
stick a piece
of fruit
a note
on a sticky pad a
pencil and
a hard thing to write on
a child a
man and
a light jacket and
a woman and
a heavier jacket
somehow stuffed
into pockets
sleeves
crevices in
the couch
beneath
the seat
cushions
behind eye
lids
anywhere
she might
need a thing
for the next
visit or
meal or trip
or bout
of heat or
cold
for the un
certainty
of living
in the future.

ask

She moves from room
to room
asking questions
of the air of
the envelope
on the desk: who are
you? why
are you?

She expects
the precise
placement (of
curtains
twitching them
into place
locking
unlocking locking
again doors)
will charm
the stuff
of life into
sense.

She knows
she is the only
one who sees
the ghosts
she lives with
the ones
who wander
from room
to room who
will not
lock doors who
allow the curtains
to gap
who refuse
to answer or
not fast enough
where the envelope
is for
or
what
it is going.