the waking up of the attempt 
what has dissolved from this, real that I would 
cross it out. a staircase and a woman of the air 
what can we compare the gains of this life to? 
a boat to make our bed in grave by grave, in a white 
dress she put forth light, in the darkness of the body 
the lungs bloom of what they had forgotten

an air of brief containment, the sky seeks to remain 
quiet, a deep unspeaking of where it's been. 
I am a foreigner in a dark woods, every new relation 
a new word, torn down as though we'd built it

in the central staircase she ascends, though another 
ghost had placed my head there, not to see the wall 
but a bright field full of horses, forms this earth 
on the other side of the tapestry

list by list the soldiers cross the frozen river 
wrapped their feet against the snow to slaughter 
leave a purity or the land unborn in to comprehension

a hand might emerge from a window at night, why is 
another world so eager to come in at the edges 
of what we see? the border of the lake contains. 
vision puts forth silences like words rising 
in the throat, most what it is what it won't 
become, dug into the garden

[Drew Gardner - from The Meditations]