Fog Suite
2.
What I love about language
is what I love about fog:
what comes between us and things
grants them their shine. Take,
for instance, the estuary,
raised to a higher power
by airy sun-struck voile:
gunmetal cove and glittered bar
hung on the rim of the sky
like palaces in Tibet—
white buildings unreachable, dreamed and held
at just that perfect distance:
the world’s lustered by the veil.
Mark Doty
Sweet Machine
Thank you, Amy.