of morning rain's decanted occident,
  a garden lullaby, a tinder box

of nimbus flocked across the borderland
  I struck, indelible, a match against.

of memorandum, birds' disturbances
  of otherwise magnetic thoughts, their flaps

unrolled to shadow, then to ocher, bit
  and throat of now–– these indeterminate

reprieves from resignation: how her face,
  the way one can't see into rain, won't let

me look, the token scuds of eyes, not mine
  or hers, were hers. were discontinuous,

were rational to neither then nor now.
  that borderland, I think no more of it.