When all strips away — like
the painting, like the sky the color of pine needles
Vermont jigsaw mountain wrap-around
bundled many-legged tiptoe trees —
the paring knife skimming
away the skin reveals
composition –and words have come and come
until the space is emptied, until
something deep goes
silent – there. Mountain holding
the forest, the not-seeing-you,
the not-being-with-you, that
possibly possibly not knowing anymore
and knowing knowing
feels harder than earth, solid as stone
and ocean that separate us
puzzle pieces snapped together.
The amber meadow crayoned in.