I went looking for another
Poem for you. I searched everywhere:
In the tang of marshes open
To the sea; in the billowing
Clouds spread across a winter sky;
In the neck of a blue heron,
Curved, questioning water. I searched,
And found nothing until I swept,
Finally, under the bed.
There the dust I drew towards me
Became stacks of fine linen sheets.
I tried and could not estimate
Their thread counts—woven as they were
With your hair over many nights.