Fossil Travel
*
Lenny, you know I
waited in Kildare
– For what. On the
floor of that lake
– No, before that,
in front of the
keyhole, before
I went in.
A middle-aged
tourist was
there for the
cheese. Lenny,
the signposts
were sheep-blank.
*
And though it was
pure
(my very own abstract)
the falling apart of
it was neither Venice
nor Ireland it was
cheese
– And the tourist?
– Oh, she didn’t
see it like that. She
just harvested
the view.
*
Before
Kilkenny?
Way before
sheep:
the continents
snug with interlocked
legs– at the bottom
of the alluvial
pool. I was so
lonely among
the minerals
– Was that in
Brooklyn
– Yeah, empty
cutout of Brooklyn,
like. Through
the hole you could
see the sheep. Yes.
The meadow I was.
Cut out in the pool
where I wasn’t.
*
Are you going
to county Kilkenny?
– I’ve taken the
landscape pill and saw
exactly how it will
look in the future.
– And? – It will be
all roses and bearded
men. Then floods
and snow.
(Ancestor: pound
her beloved down into
the view. Make
her work to be
one.)
It’s raining through
the hole in
the sheep.