(Cento- from The very selected Mimi Khalvati)

A robin flew into my room today

to hold me

if light can’t

No one is there for you. Don’t call, don’t cry.

It had rained that day. It had primed a world-

even the vine leaves shot with sun

each vein a small blue river.

Yes, I should be living under the vine

beyond the view of crossroads ringed with breath

facing the headland with its crown in mist

that takes such care to tend what fades so soon.

No one is there for you. Don’t call, don’t cry-

come close the flower says and we came close.