Sliding back
time melting to an anchored crawl
in the immensity of the hollows —
pulled into the initial drowning.

The sunflower fields
all turning, awaiting the sun
from behind the clouds in the hills.

The hummingbird
flutters over the inflorescence
awakening florets — tesserae.

The serpent’s hiss
strums the songline
revealing coalesced patterns
in the mural.

When I find again
the pradakshinã passage
the seat at the threshold —
where my hollows meet the world.

My attempt to voice again —
your face behind the silky veil,
I continue carving in soft marble.

And I ask of you
to send your smell
for my fingers.