Parading

oh you who are never the same

What of the little phrase? Its notes, like leaves

I love you as the plant that doesn’t bloom but carries

Who can now tell what was taken, or where,

Built to say at least. Built to reach for the heat

A rosemary bush with a sorcerer’s cloak

Out of the deep and the dark,

“Child of the earth,

a ghost town

Moving as a mind moves across a math problem,