Verse 6, Learning the Toll

What could his toy car

leave but the trace of its

bead of polished brass, rainwet

ornament draggled by grimy

ribbon, silent noisemaker

tied to a fender, tracing

superficial figures

over lotuses carved

deep in wet by

lovers’ feet, their image

vanishing in surf

washing over the

unmeasured petals, the



in depth submerged,

the wind high, cooing,

as a boy, catching the scent,

forgetting his toy

car and everything,

sprints after them.


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