Open & Borrow

When I scarcely know what error of mind
made all brick, stucco, ravine, ale, and song fail
and all floorboards flee except
where the shaking chair sat—
Ridge Road and lichen, I borrow, I borrow
the herring we ate and the honey’s rash blanket,
I open the maggot to borrow its mad borrowings,
each needle’s mistake undone by hand I borrow that hand,
I open a crisp rim in ice and borrow a stool, I borrow a life,
a village, a man, I open him and he’s borrowing, too,
I don’t need proof to climb this back staircase
until the bright mind opens and it’s true, and clear, I render,
and ocean, no longer do I borrow you.