Is your hobby
to take
note of things?—
is that phosphorescent sheen
of night clouds rimming
city skies
greener
or bluer than the evening
before?
If the time it takes
for the furniture
to grimace, or
for every flower
to earn its
own word—
and each word,
all the time it requires
to mean—
then, you might qualify
as our key change,
as our modulator,
as that flat sixth
which transmogrifies the mode
of the day;
redresser
of all
status quos, recoverer
of songbirds—
over
and over again,
but always
in some
new way.
