The Finder

          The weighted boots her feet wear and her feet.

To be in this panorama of sharp and conservative plants makes her

          an internal aspect                     a within of the desert—

Her body enshrouded in a black dress.

          Or does she walk through the desert

where she is misunderstood and misunderstands?

          To go in to get to     or to go through to get beyond?

Boot prints through the verbena and verbena growing in her boot prints.

          She can feel autumn move, tilting the planet.

The length of the day becomes the length of the night.

          Her hem unravels on a thorn—

the evidence of her passing in black thread.

          The finder could know her as anyone, anyone—

She walks in this place void of resemblances, beyond understanding.

          She gives up her body to know this ground

where               never               is allowed to accumulate.