Forgot the dream that led me to the cane
But how the rattle tempts me
Wide and scraping
Sit and dry
Make mica on your skin
Divide your forearm
Like a stack of yellow news
Muscovite sheath
Thick billfold fray
New glinting slots the sun can breach
The cane flares open
Just before a hill
I see the bronze plate water
Gleaming
Flawed like pollen settled and was cast
A spectrum frozen flat
Upon the gleam
Now gold has turned to black
Frogs pierce the ear
I'm in the cane
Forgot the dream that led me here

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