You Number Us in Cyclones and Honey–Ransom Note Poetry

You number us in cyclones and honey,

The unspectacular lilac-breasted

Pattern on the water like wings of milk.

We search for this place when the seas scattered

To the folding dhows will not be pinned.


Our purpose is traced with photographic

Plates of cobweb, corkboard, and spittle.

We will find our purpose from veins polished

From kingfisher feathers. Spinning the trees,

Our purpose scours us to nail and scrap.


Perhaps flying the mighty mockingbird,

At last, down to journey among the known

Suggested king or queen pilgrimages

Of a clean opalescent southern gulf.

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