Poems
sometimes arrive on ice crystal surf
tidal, in waves
loping behind a throat closed silence
to settle beneath this stone, that stick
or rise like ash
on fiery fingers of air
smoking the landing
trailing soot
others trip or foul
break the window, slam the door
leave a stain
on the way out
some appear in slipstream hook
on raven-wing whush or humpback sigh
changing everything
about a moment.