Brett Shaw

stretched and marked

at a border,

customs asks me to explain love.

when i was a child i was taken

into an igneous layer.

there’s heat there, it fused the dead

indelibly.

either everything is glacial or

everything is the air

after calving—

glacier or ruminant

nature makes this

little difference. Some

-times we go silent with con-

tacting each other—

this makes me think we’re

part the same, part

whirlpool

or whippoorwill—

hoo,

hoo?