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Description
This poem
will be found
where you live,

somewhat short of breath,
missing an arm,
and looking

for the way
things used to be.
It will tell

the story of a dream
watching a dream.
Behind small jars

of cardamom
and bay leaf
you will catch

its scent, and,
as you move aside
a thing or two,

it will look up
with lips that purse
like an eye

to recite
all the words for blue
(which might also

be all the names
for wind, weariness,
and God).

It will tell you
what kind you have been,
recalling

the shoes you wore
when you were.
This poem

will be found
where poems always are.

Description
This poem
will be found
where you live,

somewhat short of breath,
missing an arm,
and looking

for the way
things used to be.
It will tell

the story of a dream
watching a dream.
Behind small jars

of cardamom
and bay leaf
you will catch

its scent, and,
as you move aside
a thing or two,

it will look up
with lips that purse
like an eye

to recite
all the words for blue
(which might also

be all the names
for wind, weariness,
and God).

It will tell you
what kind you have been,
recalling

the shoes you wore
when you were.
This poem

will be found
where poems always are.