Take these eyes, colored pebbles,
this totem nose, these lips that know
all the multiplication tables and the most select poems.
I give the whole face, with the tongue and the hair,
I take off my nails and teeth and fill in the weight.
It doesn'' T work
that way of feeling. What eyes or what fingers.
Not that overheated food, memory,
nor attention, like a pernicious parrot.
Take the inductions and the hangers
where the words washed and ironed hang.
Arree with the house, outside everything,
leave me like a hole, or a stake.
Maybe then, when I'm not worth
the generosity of God, that boy.scout,
and be like the carpet that has endured
his slow shoe rain eighty years
and it's just warp, clear skeleton where
the rich silver peacocks were erased,
it may be that without you I say your name true
It can happen that you reach your waist without hands.
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