It meant an island where the rabbits ran.
No island anymore, no bunnies. No wolves
to eat them.
I listened with my eyes
to the words of your journey
on the silent glossophone,
it rang around me, dark as I was,
of words caught in my trouser cuffs.
I am far
away in place but in spirit a pine tree
nearby lets a single clench of needles on my table,
here, I’m writing around it,
four needle fingers
on one hand,
I spread out and count them to make sure.