a swamp of white.
So the secret is I glow.
Blush with dust and ephemeral lungs.
This is my architecture, mineral
and air, what I have always suspected:
I am clamorous. I am a
Theater vessel, ovaries charming as nests.
masonry, grainy as sugar.
Disrobe me and I am a cotillion dress, bone white
and hungry as a milkweed.
Seven fences of lamplike
I would like another name now, in Gaelic
meaning hushed or
the grain after fire.
I have earned it: the only edifice I own
and what astonishing
to know that beneath and below and
think of sand covered briefly,
there is something cluttered, and beautiful.