WORLD

Hello, blank page and place of risk,

I will walk a small square of you

in the early morning, looking out

for a thing no bigger than a full stop

flying right to my eyes and circling

in the air there, black as a soot speck

with a nervous system and a neat grid

of signals, that couples with its kind

in a corner of the sofa, even on my own

ear-lobe. Sea-world of brazen air (this

room in waltz-time) humming a tune

to make ice to. And now the cricket

coming in on time, a dry night-heart, singing.

RACHEL HADAS