I would want to disappear--
the space between ravens in the snow
when the ravens scatter into the sky.
Diffuse and clean I would weigh
down the green pine and blue spruce,
crystallize and trickle
over carcass and deadfall, gone
like a season lost to childhood.
My passage would be lit
by scant collisions, faint impressions
left by heat and force,
particles changing from flowing
wave to vague distinction
vibrating a particular band,
the harmonics of color compressed
within the history of my meetings.
They would feign interest
in how I spun and paused,
remitting only the mystery,
scant contact lingering inside
their slick and livid eyes,
knowing only how little is known.
Everyone mostly the other--
brightest in its absence, alive
like light lost climbing towards heaven.