Something about thick terry cloth hardening on the line, the white towels in their salted paralysis

Something about a bird of prey careening on an acre-scouring helix and a single note

A desire path running through a fence and out the other side

Something about the wind here and its deciduous accompaniment

The impassive surface of the lake and its skittering outtakes of cloud

Something about a household silence, its occupants exchanging I love yous as reflexes or amulets

A silence punctuated by an insect, determined most of the sky is reachable, its garland of failures tapping at the window

And the body as incarnate wish

Something that falls over

The crowd of neighbour boys once one—inextricably dared— is last seen entering the water head first