Issue 109, Winter 1988
Here, where the rivers dredge up
the very stone of Heaven, we name its colors—
muttonfat jade, kingfisher jade, jade of appleskin green.
And here, in the glittering
hues of the Flemish Masters, we sample their wine;
rest in their windows’ sun-warmth,
cross with pleasure their scrubbed tile floors.
Everywhere the details leap like fish—bright shards
of water out of water, facet-cut, swift-moving
on the myriad bones.