Compass Plant

Compass Plant

Silene acaulis

A sly wind threads the muck-moated hillocks

drawing reeded breadths

across lichen-rough stone, shuttle humming. What is 

that song, I ask

believing I have nothing to lose 

in the asking 

as open-throated terns cross 

the beaming, sunlit taiga

warping sea to sky and sea to sky

and back again

bending each edge until 

I am lost entirely in the filling 

and dropped, windswept and empty-handed

into the weave of a midnight sun

finishing a tweeded-leaf pattern

tightly felted, bearing 

a declination of blooms, their templed faces 

bright with answer.


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