I could not hear the other side / the other side could not hear me
The body runs its applets
as apples shyly glow
thunking
through the dusk beneath the trees
so, too, there is a gear in us
nimbly clicking
in foreshortened air
I hear the arc and whirr of it
ratcheting the nil
the empty shaft—
meantime, the river stretches out
the single silver fiber that it is
and the body with its silver threads
halflit in the armchair (lavender or
avocado green)
flickers, intermittent
attempting to connect
with something it could wish for
arcsine
───
archive
secant
───
e-cig
tangent
───
grassquit
as the river snarking past the house
fidgets with its lake
its dirty bank—
If only I had been
some other kind of self
if / then
would you skype me
until I sky myself
because this dark is a variant
of every other dark
a spindle of intent that I must nightly choose to wind
Alix Anne Shaw is the author of three poetry collections: Rough Ground (Etruscan, 2018), Dido in Winter (Persea, 2014), and Undertow (Persea, 2007), winner of the Lexi Rudnitsky Poetry Prize. Her work appears in Harvard Review, Fence, Denver Quarterly, The Los Angeles Review, New American Writing, and online at www.alixanneshaw.com. She is also a sculptor.