The Calm Eye Passes Over

What begins in a landscape, what begins with the land
A field of hayseed, here is a field
Here is a horse, her neck bent down
A neck that scatters the birds away

There’s a form of incomplete mourning
A storm with an eyewall, but no eye
At the blindest hour of night
a woman drags a box to the forest
hurling plate after plate
against the young trees

What a loss comes to mean
Shattered plates in the woods
One after one, the night-blind trees
A very young widow, the porcelain smashed
A shattered plate in the woods
“A very human raindrop”

A human sorrow, some human rain
“I love you, but I can’t give you anything”
Like something that doesn’t exist
A plate, then its shards in the woods
A plate, then the underside of a word

Try to convince me
the hammer loves the egg
Try to convince me
the eye of the storm is open
That the eye of the storm that sees you
will bypass the cowering form

Where my grief meets your grief
A clear eye
A filled eye
A ragged eye

Grief against the
mourning for the
sorrow at the
hammer

The eyewall meets the forest
A mile-wide eye, a pinhole eye
While the calm eye passes
my grief meets your grief

Eye in an eye, unstable eye
The calm eye passes over
In a field of hayseed, a very human word
​The calm eye passes over