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Hand unclenching, fingers curling: eyes
That, opening, took in the hand, the body
Following, the hidden entering
What held it, what it hid
And somewhere above
(I never looked)
Wind sifting through the attic,
Rifling pages, opening drawers--
Who'd known? Pacing
The village, hungry, cold, returning
To the only place we'd ever known, a table
Set with nothing but our hands that reached out
Gradually to touch but felt instead
A gust, a brush of wings--who'd known
How much I wanted to be found?
We hoarded cans, pulled blankets to our chins
And waited. Woke to find the house
Blown back to sticks,
Roof splayed open to the sky
So anyone could see
I'd wished it. Anything
I hid, provisions, letters
Bound with yarn, became a lure.
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