from Slip Stream
1. They have packed the car with the kitchen sink
two surfboards, two daughters and smoked fish for a kedgeree.
It is time to go north to Dreamstay but first they must
stop at the hospital. They wait in a tight corridor
for the tight news like two animals in an orchestra perhaps.
She is very good at breaking the ice of waiting.
She can swim in the ocean. She can read detective novels.
She can prosper by finding love in a peg. Six letters.
2. It is a hop and a book down to the sea
and a leap and a song to set sail for the moon.
3. She manages to adopt an extreme yoga position
(her invention) pressed
against the metal like a bird frozen
and holds it for fifty minutes without moving.
She has the triangle pressed against the wall
again and again.
4. She is first this time.
She answers one clue.
Hold the sprag tight.
She reads one page.
She lies in one bed.
She hears one old man snore.
She cannot sink into that one deep luxury.
She feels she can see what she sees in her mind
as concrete details as though she can touch absence
or the holes in poems or the sublime,
as though such things are as hard and as tough
the tarsealed road at the top of the drive.