Both at Once


Rae Gouirand



The question is always

what I want, not what is wanting—


what end I will make of this walk

which edge I will take for myself.


Before one blue one gold

I know two things.


The same that has held me open

leaves me to see. Our brick


is cold, our shoes no longer fit.

I woke crying out for what I wanted


over and over like it snowed.

I was snow.


Looking hard at what has lasted

it tears. It tears a little as I live.


What do I remember

that second eye waiting on me.


If I could say how I got here

I would—


so whiten these folded knees

focus myself after stars


make crystal air where

air was clear. I am


a brick walk, I am

my own breath. Out those


windows snow

more than we ever asked for


beyond what lamps we burned.

I think about willing myself.


Always the question

which eye you are looking out of


which you are looking into

these moments we spend


locked or tossed

as what pulses pushes back.