Some Place

What is this
around us—I want

to use quotes—
when we speak

to spring
or brick, what speaks.

I was born on a planet
flung off to

yield itself—
fingerprints rest

& I hover
looking for some place.

I is always
the hardest

among the signs
that are not

just rock,
straw, dark, dust,

shell, spark, wick—
everything but I

has use & I
knows little of what

it bends to gather,
resolves to consume.