1387, from L. revolvere “turn, roll back,” “to move about a central point”
In the attic, from Attica, meaning to defend
hidden behind rafters we kissed (from kuss,
probably ultimately imitative of the sound) –
home. In the way we were not children together
but we are now. It began with a stain
in the refrigerator, wraithlike children in the bath-
room, a lease change meaning to loosen,
widen, or let open. And lower, in basements
with playacts of depression, even there, charred,
I could feel it – ghosts from gaist, geist, to wound,
tear, pull to pieces – a back-comer. I was
frosting a cake, kitchen not kussen (that would come later),
now we’re Polaroid, now we’re boxspring and
train back. Key cuts. Baby love or lufu, lubo, luber,
libet, not found elsewhere as a noun.
Consequence of body understanding, one bird sensing
the approach of the sun, singing or singan, the word
itself used also for birds, wind oceanic feelings.
It’s like fall: you don’t see it coming, then, dear God,
it’s gone. Time going into itself and back out again.
You were soccer cheer and chickens in the road,
I was roan most likely Greco-Roman, most likely red,
but what’s in the present, first unseeable snow
also sniwan, to overwhelm, a persistent persuasion –
there’s Emily in a cold room broken into, alone. Past,
presidents interred in vast prairie, turned tundra,
time keeps anything that measures, as in circuits,
eternal from L. aeternus, of great age, as in homes.
Claim could still mean a crying out,
to tame could still be to break horses, demand.
The book may be from the tree itself
(people still carve initials).
And what about return?
That which signifies an end, but keeps going.
re: volver – which can, in some cases, mean even “to become”
In anywhere, I’d been searching for placement.
I’ve been finding it, surprisingly, in the same spaces.