Lisa Fishman


As the bony branches were black against the sky
and as the sky was violet nighttime blue

As the leaves were raked and the apples sworn
to fidelity and the gloves removed

As the branches made a veil
like unto bones through which the sky night

Before we fell from our ladders through the leaves

a green part of your eye

Before because
not a category (“No cause, Sir, no cause”)

Or the light held out from the branches like a pain
in the elbow, crookd arm with a veil
hung over the arm, being ready
like being ready like grass
under the body under the bones being alive

Under study of the branches the leaves
fell through ladders
the daughter lied: Because

The leaves raked sure
into grass against we lay there, the ungloved hands
of trees in the argument part earth part sky