The property line widened like a spreading stain.
Drank ink and swelled into map. The line held
the land like an unborn child. Then: pavement crawled
forward. Crawled away. It spread along the land
everywhere it went. It crawled like a child:
on the ground. Wherever it went it lay down
like light it scattered like seed. The creek
it forded. Then lined. Diverted and crosshatched
the map. The map lay flat. The sky stood on stilts
and peered through its vaults: blades, blossoms, trees with nests.
the unhatched hold the sky off the map. Lift it above
the child on the ground, the scatter of seeds. The future
made by the feathers of birds. Fill
a pillow, sew it shut, lay the past down to rest.