recovery is,

recovery is,

 

of course the chuff that comes

with it puffed up from the claw

or the tale about some narrow

scrape with the ungloved hand

but not before sand has canned

the plans – the camo curtain

of instantly solid instantly not

fog can you pull that much silt

from behind with the ribbed flip

of your backside and wave

those claws in the face of  your

adversary and make off in what

could be a companion wave what

could be the underneath of a man

and his dory and float beneath

it all fury fog silt settling all debts

in escape?  maybe float weight-

less like one of those pulling

and pushing to stay as one in one

place before everything is taken

and made to make it all the way

out of the water and walk again

like she does on those floor

-boards: knots and wringings

of cloths and wrists and thumbs

a pugilist of the cause : cookpot

or laundry or the wash of a body

on the kitchen table to watch

what drops off the recovered

and makes its own way out

of life like it always has done.