next to nothing

when it was understood

it could not happen

fast or all

at once, the world

became my enclosed

space, my trial

zone—small

scrimps like the backyard

metal rake scraping

concrete rather than

one vertical

slit, or a christening

by walking

farther and farther

out—the water

trustworthy, the

edge, intimacy

the skill to

connect into one dull

flow, able to go

soundlessly,

scrupulously with no

help, and paramount, no

signal:

developing death

stamina, perfecting no

expression until

I do not need

a note