HOUSEKEEPING
Under enormous strictures the salt hinges, becomes a fold. Underneath the canopy I dressed in white like stitches were anathema to waking. A hush at the collar makes binding notes. You smear the water. Past the pointed periphery, out past the lake notes miming the subject. I stand up straight like a clasp on the light boards, catching favor. In the daytime, nothing lingers. Pull all the maps inside.