Grains of Paradise
-for Adam Zagajewski
The time of impossible friendships,
cruel steps, the time of refrigerated semi-trucks
and their willing assistance,
the time of I-pad goodbyes,
of casual stock, pastured, backs
to the wind,
of taking counsel from vibrating
grass,
the time of light stored in windshields,
in chrome trim,
of recipes written on matchbooks,
on prison stationary, in braille, calling for
grains of paradise. Unseen, they are
anywhere, not waiting,
just beyond recognition.