SEEING

ANNA SCOTT

I’ve been thinking about seeing,

But my eyes

Account for less than one percent

Of the weight of my head.

I walked up to an Osage Orange

And a hundred birds flew.

I saw a tree then

A whisk of color then

A tree again.

Something bright and then

Holes. 

Men do not really 

Look like trees at all.

A fish flashes then dissolves

Like so much salt.

The brightest oriole fades 

Into leaves, nature 

Conceals with a nonchalance.

This looking business is risky.

I don’t know what the lover knows.

I’ve been around for too long.

Before Adam gave names.

After thousands of years

We are still strangers 

To darkness, visible 

Without consent.

I breathed an air

Like light; I saw a light

Like water, I was the lip

Of a fountain the creek filled

Forever, I was ether

The leaf in the zephyr,

Flesh-flake, feather,

Bone.