I

 

 

The pastoral

lies diaphonous on itself

pale tissue pulled from within      There is no secrecy, only swathing

The consolation of the flat world

 

 

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Tissue of consolation

on the wan field Wandering tissue

What the narrator thought was a flawless passivity

was not

Shush

 

 

Mist

 

 

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Make the new year to arrive

—an estate atop our pastoral

The sound of arrival secures silence

for if none are known to arrive
                                                    only to have preexisted

veiled in the countryside                 rural peril

The creature turning smoothly in its enclosure comes to

admire its own silence above all

 

 

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What the narrator supposed was perfect

was the creature in its white fur

struggling soundlessly in the trap

 

Perfect, yes, camouflage Hence the field

makes white snow to fall upon itself

Blemishless

 

Copyright © Elizabeth Robinson, 2006.

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Elizabeth Robinson teaches Creative Writing at the University of Colorado, Boulder. Her most recent publications are Apostrophe (Apogee Press, Berkeley, 2006), Apprehend (Fence Books, 2003) and Pure Descent (Sun & Moon, 2003). She also co-edits the magazine 26, and the chapbook press Etherdome.