One Place Is as Good as the Next

to begin. The bobwhite’s nest. Redstarts on branches

in birches, phoebes peeping from rotting eaves.

Begin with an unfinished page, crickets scraping

away in the pantry. Much has been said about

the soul and the corner bodega. Much has been said

about the soul taking leave, pleased

at times as it seems to exit the body. Begin

not with goodbye but the wet gravel ditch. With

the ruts and strut and fret of a life overturned,

giant Rain Bird whipping water. Start

with a luxury barge. With human hubris. With

having no teeth but eating meat no matter what.

With the woman in Akron cutting a tornado in two

with her tongue. Begin, if you must, unhooked

and detached. Shattered. The morning will answer

itself, having said all it can say about

the shovel-nosed snake and oriole’s aerial cradle,

mud daubers daubing by the meandering river.