I took the cure, so
forgive me for running hot and cold,
remitting the usual to obscurity.
I must have asked for this,
thin lines that frame my mouth
even when I do not smile.
When I spoke again, I was careful to put
fire blossoms on my tongue
snow feathers in my hair.
If you think it is so easy, then
draw a straight line
and tear it up, but only perfectly.
I pull my shadows in around me,
study Shenandoah lines going south,
Raphine, Mint Spring, Stuart’s Draft.