It was only upon leaving the hospital

that I noticed the drainage ditch bordering

the road used for supply deliveries, where

the trash, disposed of in the depression,

slowly lost its form to the collected

rainwater—the Styrofoam containers,

the coke cans, the grass clippings

congealed into a single mass like

the specific effect of benzodiazepines

on the brain, the warming of

the blood, the flattening of memory

into a coin. Contamination occurs

when the liquid, forced to carry what

it consists of, leeches beyond the toe

of the slope, seeping into larger bodies

of water like Emerald Lake, West River,

& Grout Pond where I once spotted

a bluegill the size of a buzz saw.

I have always been told by teachers

that it is the quality of a landscape

portrayed in a poem that expresses

the health of the mind describing it.

Zoom in. Everything is made from

lumps of particles & those that live

forever are known as “observationally stable.”

Zoom out. An ambulance arrives, delivering

its emergency. A flock of birds leaves

behind a trail of afterimage as they fly

over the parking lot. It declines quickly,

the sector of the avian brain

responsible for action. So few years

spent in the sky. So little time

spent interpreting light & making music.