Move 37

by Heather McHugh                                          

The uttermost’s
a figment of

addiction, like
the pre and post

we think we deepen
takes or leapen data with.

And zounds! the charge
fulfilled, a mount

to measure—two hands up—
I give some tiny overcrop

to every moon. Or call it
newer, older, golder, blue.

The freedom to say all
becomes the blur

of seeing sound
aligned, unwise,

with our two turns
of mind who for

the life of us could
never bear the being

clapped or even just yclept
alone: could never count

for less, nor yet for Ever-
more be bound.

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Heather McHugh lives in a modest Olympic Peninsula settlement with an immodest joy in her companion and a gratitude for rain. Her books of note are Hinge & Sign (an old Selected), To the Quick (because she still adores the cover), and a collection of literary essays, Broken English: Poetry and Partiality. Two new books are forthcoming, poetry and prose.