Encounter v 2

Make no mistake, the wide night held her, even after her disappearance,
the wake of it, bright, humming, pressed into her with an unripe blackness.

The actual dawn teased her shut, made her slow to pulse with the road, worn out, strapped-in, scratched — her surface gestures
could only mimic (see, she’s doing it now).

She’s drawn out, see: ribbon laying down shapes that will
never stay put again, never give way too easily to song,
simple sound (that other ground).

The cliff where dense fog accumulates, is still there (she points)
sharp in places, desiccated, it hides the tunnel, holds to the dark
place, with the rest — filled with the wait/weight.

Sleepless dusty gesture, the girl shudders, her weapon this weed.
What happened will continue to happen, oil splatters, a wheel slips,
someone is holding green grapes in a noisy market (somewhere)
chews something bitter.

A hard wind blew her to pieces for good — no, the steps
are still there, the notebook, what’s left of her scream,
this shattering, slow business finally after days,
this dig (argument), remnants of another life,
the persistence of shards, rough filament she can pull
through the hole in the back of the man running.