“I,” the erogenous cusp
of mind and world, sees the rose
lining of a bird’s beak
and calls the dawn a churchly blue.
But I need lessons in deportment.
How, at three a.m., to find the silo
by its denser cylinder on dark,
refract the husk until it grows
in deeper contrast to the night
and night becomes a positive
beside the lighthouse without light.
—Alice Fulton, from “Cusp.”
Illustration credit Raymond Lemstra.