Pantoum
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She wondered “were they going far or returning—”
the lines of telephone wire parting the snow?
Lines giving direction and beauty, black oracles
showing her how distance falls through the curve of space.

The lines of telephone wires parting the snow
are scalloped like the fallen slip straps on her white arm,
showing her, oh, how distance falls through the curve of space
while the children play their imaginary games.

A scallop, the fallen slip strap on her white arm
drives him wild, makes him glad for the walls, and door he closes
while the children play their imaginary games.
The India ink notes, the neat bones of her hunger

drive him wild, make him glad for the walls, the doors he closes.
Flute, and clarinet, the bell of her voice soar
out of the notes. The clean bones of her hunger
fly out the window, out of the Montana winter.

Flute, clarinet, and the bell of her voice soar
in the sequences of love and love’s consequences,
flying out the door, out of the Montana winter,
falling at the last like coins on a sheet of paper.

In the sequence of love and love’s consequences,
lines giving direction and meaning, oracles
falling at last like coins on a sheet of paper.
She wondered to see how going far means returning.