If only you could
reclaim these bricks
before they disintegrate. If

only you could rescue
the salt from your spit
before its echo

of shapes dissolves
into the shadows
of oaks. If only you could

dodge the edges. If
the first egret you see
this season chases

a red-winged blackbird
off the fishing pier.
If a gentle morning breeze

chases pink
lilac petals
to the ground. Green

chases away
the identity of trees, and if
my words chase you.