a believable day, fast as a fish —
the fact of it in its untraceable shoal:
today I’m climbing a mountain I crowned,
a mountain I envy. clot of selves,
we seek firmer ground. cloud of us, we love
such a landscape, limn it.
a believable day gestures to yesterday.
it’s as though I’ve been here before.
anywhere I imagine a sea to be, one is —
roamed by waves, fallacies though they may be.
a believable day ends. when it ends,
I sit solid in a solid dark.
DUSK LIKE A LONG BRIDGE
an increscent hush;
dark flashes of birds crossing the sky’s
in a dream-grammar there’s a way
to say how far I’ve come, and from where —
in a dream with different eyes in my head.
below the bridge a world
ultraviolet, ultra-deep, swings
as though I’m not the thing swinging.
Abbey Frederick is a writer and teacher from upstate New York. Her poems have appeared in DIAGRAM, Interim, TYPO, and elsewhere.