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.