In the Beginning

there was planet
     and so much
light. I wanted

             to go home. Because I
remembered home.
    Because I

             remembered home smoke
             above its roof like large
sails, I wanted

     to sing endearment. I wanted
to want. Of course
           I wanted

desire to be with me
    now. I remember
  in a bed, I did not

want him. I did not
       desire him
in a bed

hushed by fog. I remember
             a field too

             as the stem of a pear
chosen in Upstate New York.

I knew him
             dear as I knew
the cat

      who slept on my windowsill
like a clay figurine. I wanted
             to go home—

      where I am—where I am—
from—where I am—
    sleeping the night like a highway.


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