With the voice of the fieldmouse

云水幽梦

With the voice of the fieldmouse

you squeak up to me,


a sharp

clip,

you bite your way through my shirt to the skin,


a cloth,

you slide across my mouth

midway through the words

I address to you, shadow,

to give you weight.

云水幽梦

Line the wordcaves
with panther skins,

widen them, hide-to and hide-fro,
sense-hither and sense-thither,

give them courtyards, chambers, drop doors
and wildnesses, parietal,

and listen for their second
and each time second and second
tone.