What’s worth darkness.
What breaks out of it with a crash that upsets the values
otherwise firmly situated
on the blue seat cushion of a cold chair.
What throws off light, leaving that hard material in a bunch on the floor.
There were the echoes of a splash that moved from wall to wall.
There were the riches of that noise,
what they can be traded for
that will replace the cracked containers.
Let me hold your ideas of rescue.
Let me hold your seas, those you’ve folded in thirds.
Somewhere in the house a hand opens for the receipt.
Somewhere a window lets in fear.
What’s the position of the rain?
What color is the life?
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