The stack, a vertical grey against the blue,
flinging strands—smoke?—but they’re white.
Let’s be generous and say its steam.
Birds wheel in play or in anger:
What I saw; what I saw.
The chair creaks, the wood beneath it groans;
on the back, a cashmere sweater,
draped where it was hung, eggshell,
a button missing, swaying with the chair:
What I saw; what I saw.
