proposals for good fortune

I

finally—
time to learn new ways.

this covering—
curled, familiar—
will not hold long

do not return—
exhale / inhale

do not grip it tight enough to cut—
the undone thread flows like a river

do not keep it all forever—
boxes within boxes within boxes

do not take a photo—
it settles low in the back


II

when I touched the stalk

it was soft—
collapsing, coming apart.

this one shifts—
purple to black,
then blue,
then pink,
then white—

roots emerge.


III

I saw you set it aside
on top of the dear ladder,
where they had been waiting.

one day
I thought of your colours.
when you laughed
I tried to write them down—

they slipped through my hands.

I’ve been keeping count—
of the times they vanished.
perhaps a dozen, now.

IV

I heard it—
a slow dripping below.

I crossed field after field.
you said I would find it there.

clouds mirrored in the river—
the water, the daisies—
white and yellow.

I carried in my pocket
a handful
of the smiling ones.

in the shade, I found it:
the opening.

I peered inside.

straightening,
arm outstretched,
I threw one in.

it struck the walls,
an echo rippling outward.


V

you asked me to be gentle.

watch—how she thins, how she swells.

yes, I see now—we wane, we return.

and tomorrow we cast light.