The leaves are curled like fingers from which the wrist
Is broken. The X-rayed wrist in four parts, with a
                                                                                        triangular island

Don’t take me home, at least not yet;
Let’s have another drink, and sit
and talk—I want to be your woman,

It is called Trent or Noel
for the most beautiful girl
turning woman on the continent.

This right eye establishes
grounds for consistency.
He’s a burr I can’t get rid of.

The cars are yellow and green and black.
Cement is gray. My car quit
three years ago. I junked it.

He raised his hand above his head.
His hair was a surface of gray,
his hand a semaphore.

I ask you to stay.
Here in my head I ask.
You don’t know I’m asking,

I’m trying to tell you something
important to me
and you walk out the door,

Because I want to watch them do what I would like to do
if I were free, and because it is late and I am tired
and out for what I say is my nightly walk, I stop

He believes, he believes, the gray-eyed one 
who puts your shards together. 
(Cleft saucers are mended in Vitebsk.)