The French term terrain vague enfolds
a plot of land I thought at first was vague,
undefined and malleable.

mornings
I wake wary
of abundance
wondering why I’m still here
and then I recall
all the green leaves
with their hiding birds

I’m trying to stop thinking about what I want to not // be. Sometimes I have looked into my heart and found that // everything’s packed up.

I want to be two-tongued again

To go back to the time when I slipped
from one language to another with ease,

You retreat back to your bedroom,
your headset cooler than any
sunlight . . .

only now  is it apparent     how
dishonouring a body is a crime

At Aber Falls

he felt nothing
water sheeted
past grottoes
snakes of tributary
lazed along

I notice her because she doesn’t have a dog
in an afternoon of dog-walkers

the goddess of the library
extends in cloth-bound curves
along a lettered shelf