trout

In the Cloister of Happen & Hazard

Claire Hero

Within you a watermark, a woman fleeing skirts, dinner tables

Someone she once loved, a glass on the edge

In a diorama of future selves
one is adorned with a teacup, one with a violin, one posed in a
grotto, one—

still the empty palm still
     A recluse's life must be plain: you are allowed two windows.