It was as if branches were fences or brush strokes,
days were years,
pots were children and vines are
veins that connect all my friends.
If late at night, when watching the moon, you still
sometimes get vertigo, it's understandable
that you wish suddenly and hard for fences, for someone
to marry you. Desiring a working knowledge,
needing to know some context by heart, you might
accept anything: the room without windows,
the far and frozen North, or the prairie.
-- Marie Howe, in The Good Thief