To C

Forrest Gander

Inside, inside the return, inside, the hero diminishes.

Over her vessel they place a veil, and when it is lifted

the name of the vessel has been lost. Consider

the darkness of the water which has no scent

and neither can it swallow. Yet the ship’s bow

extends over the proscenium like a horse

at a fence and the orchestra stands and files out.

On the long walk home, I long to see your face.