bonsai sits on the north sill
inside the shadow mesh
of its geometry
and burglar gate diamonds

inside the shadows
bonsai guesses tree

daylight takes each shadow
bonsai dreams throat
dreams wing

the pickup stick shadows go
bonsai forgets flight
forgets scream

life is not the fiction
is its thought
bonsai does not think
woman's foot mind bound
into small leaf

life is in the pause
between pades
in the space
between breaths
in the faith
between miracles
the despair
between griefs
is its knowledge
bonsai does not know