La parola da casa, Serena Piccoli

transient black gardens above snake havens
as forges in recognition or clouds moving slowly

"a season begins as water falls
cold over the Great Plains"

i have settled on compensation
though i've forgotten my keys
and eaten biscuits on dirty plates.

oaks, elms, ashes--fault lines below
underground metro stops.

we listen through your act of
trapping us in air, in light,
in water, in fire.