No words can outlast the silence
cut into these limestone walls
like a memory of a glacier’s
as it escapes the muddy landscape
boring channels for flash floods.
All of this was once inland sea
waiting to crumple
into that gloaming. Then the heat:
annealed to half-Eden,
a bone-white land is drilled full of the caves
They tell you to build your low-slung ranch home
on solid ground —
but what draws us here is something quite other,
the quiet veins,
pools and crevasses that have hoisted chalk-white flags
to let the trickling water have its way:
cracking the karst like dead leaves,
its mineral glaze in ochre-and-mint
spreads outward. A seeping, slow ink
lingers like guilt.
And if water runs out of limestone and you
run out of names and indices
you will finally admit that nothing invulnerable
has power to enthrall for long.