Indistinct, night wearies itself into day.
\nAnd dawn comes to with an early bruise lacking yellow.<\/p>\n
A bird falters to redden its song, a snag of notes that can\u2019t lift.
\nThe scalded teapot brews darkly and intensely hot.<\/p>\n
There is nothing to be done. Not now.
\nThe kitchen and its workable parts have neared to a standstill.<\/p>\n
You must lift the cozy to the room\u2019s cold, to your cup.
\nYou must pour yourself the hottest drop.<\/p>\n
*<\/p>\n
A different country, this.
\nNo road home \u2013<\/p>\n
but a road back,
\na place where you can put your head.<\/p>\n
It\u2019s all context, the heart of the matter, even if
\nyou\u2019re loathe to name it: the sight and no-sight of you,<\/p>\n
face behind your hands; cinched breath,
\na stone pillow wedged at your chest.<\/p>\n
*<\/p>\n
The translator posted his version of events.
\nAn almost there account, the nearly- but- not- quite,<\/p>\n
his words a framework for the woman who lived
\ninside them; every image captured through a window.<\/p>\n
For all they said. And didn\u2019t say.
\nSilhouettes on stone. On glass. On wood.<\/p>\n
The shadow that made a question of your mouth.
\nThe music that could be heard from another room.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
i
\nIt is windless, or nearly. Now and again
\nthere\u2019s a sift or a creak \u2013
\nunsteady movements lift from the field\u2019s frame;
\nlittle lights blot the damped chalked skyline.<\/p>\n
The estuary haunts, voice intense as it lows
\nfrom a blind spot \u2013 disagreed words or a harsh
\nverse rising, idea and erasure at once.<\/p>\n
ii<\/p>\n
Repeatedly turning to the river for more
\nor less river, this narrow sweep that widens
\nand this widening sweep that narrows;
\nconstant inconsistencies, all flux.<\/p>\n
Daylit and gaunt the beech trees are beaded
\nwith rooks \u2013thinned sentries and the air triggered
\nto still, cut gun metals inspected with sunlight.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Cut to an Echo Indistinct, night wearies itself into day. And dawn comes to with an early bruise lacking yellow. A bird falters to redden its song, a snag of notes that can\u2019t lift. The scalded teapot brews darkly and intensely hot. There is nothing to be done. Not now. The kitchen and its workable […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":159,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_is_tweetstorm":false,"jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":[]},"categories":[333,334],"tags":[],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"yoast_head":"\n