- Die Wunderkammer
Arrayed in drawers. Dismayed. Conveyed over waves, where something’s broken—try
and tend it, one to others. To build a sense, or a stance, accepted names will first work
best—dust like clothing, parquet floors. Recognition is sealed within these stripped shadows of the blinds.
Yes. If there is sound, sonorous, enough, I’ll signal the lighthouse adrift by the Bay. Curiosity: how it settles into pockets.
That certain walk—one step. A stumble— would work a strong contralto, while the memory, bedded down, lies
passing grand, like cameras. Wunderbar as a pleased missionary. Where are desires, unless lining the breaths in this
bric-a-brac, decent as the docent down the hall? Madame, on your left, a lowing drone that willful worries its way.
On your right, imagination muddled and alabaster. Is this the poem—a Clovis point such sudden thoughts clawed free?
Some syllable difference gives? Declare and quick, your ladyship, lest shored, the shape contain it. [End Page 222]
Steve Wilson teaches in the MFA program in creative writing at Texas State University in San Marcos. His published books include Allegory Dance and The Singapore Express.