Bulfinch
Letting go, going over
from space into time
The cloud was not inflection
it was passage, I misread
the apple, I came back
but the door was shut
The prize for a lion
was not a crown
it was a scar, for beauty
an orange, for coming home
coming home, for good
behavior it was nothing
Life so far had not
been rehearsed, just
another language of
exchange, all it can do
is lie in a word
waiting for a mouth
—Elizabeth Willis
—found in Alive: New and Selected Poems (2015)