The box probably full of live animals
or other animals has gone missing
and with it the sense of crushed sadness
to which we’d so lovingly tended
and now we have what on our hands—
not nothing but not the sky either
and time seems nearly correct
but that is its mischievous nature.
What is it that we are attached to—
stamps, ferns, nettles?
To have lost as we have so greatly
and to discover we still hold abundance—
how does this and anything happen?
We’ve seen the stars blown out
not returning and yet we have
also seen whole fleets in jars.
THE TERROR OF THE BEAUTIFUL IS OUR TERROR TOO
We can’t be other than we are
and we are hungry for some fruit
and we are holding up a tangerine
in these our terrorized hands
Oh look how everything is perfect
How we will drown in this unbelievable milk
Heather Christle is the author of The Difficult Farm (Octopus Books, 2009) and The Trees The Trees (Octopus Books 2011). From July 1-14 you can call her at (413) 570-3077 to have her read you a poem from The Trees The Trees. More information is at thetreesthetrees.tumblr.com.