Clade Song 2

the first hint of
where the transparency was the definition
of a cloud as if to draw the cloud, its outline a thought
growing less and less defined
where the daylight was a prison even behind
the cloud as if the color of the feeling was unspeakable
or to attach to it, a light wind, the scent of cypress below pine
where the elevator ran horizontally between this dream
and the other which was like a dream but it was hard to
define, it
was more lilac-colored, full of uplifting, not so much
door-after-door, like at the end of the corridor the air
opened into far off a warm, kind of blue, sea
like that, i said, as you lifted me out of what we could not define
into the arms of breathing, the cloud opened and later as if speaking
lifted up to us, the scent of rain

but and this is where the contradiction lies

this film is not about its maker

grieving you, I

Glancy Gabrielle Glancy’s work has appeared in The New Yorker, The American Poetry Review, The Paris Review, New American Writing and many other journals and anthologies. She is just beginning to wake up from a hundred year sleep in which she continued to write but stopped publishing. Her eyes have become accustomed to the dark.