how much I love life, how much I deny life
the trees blunted in their pattern
of omniscience and farewell

how I am my own slave
without saviour
trying to heal a plastic crucifix
ear lobe heart
breath of mouthwash drunks

the language led you on in those days
because of snowshoes and naive destiny
in a lantern of Yukon television

or I grew up begging in Rio
armband of little girl eyes

or the dust, with its fences
the sweeper, with his village

because you wrote for yourself
Greyhound door for him alone
with his eyes down, working

but you can't sing and the noise of a city
fits brickly through the strand
the clear drop embracing pregnant
from nowhere the child the image